The Light Of Truth
by Chirugal
Summary: Sequel to This Is Business. Plagued by dreams of Karel, Lara has the feeling the role of the Lux Veritatis is far from over. When she locates a child who exibits the same powers as Kurtis, she and a certain American have no choice but to train her. LCxKT
1. The Girl

**THE LIGHT OF TRUTH** by Chirugal

**Rating**: It's starting off pretty low, but I'm pretty sure it'll end up higher. For some unknown reason, with me, it always does…!

**Disclaimer**: Tomb Raider and all related characters are copyright of Core Design and (sigh) Eidos. Yes, I'm still in denial over the Crystal Dynamics move.

**Author's Note – _This is a SEQUEL._ I'm going to be referring to things that've happened in This Is Business, so go read that first, or risk slight confusion in places. It also takes place only a couple of months after the end of Angel of Darkness, so it's still set in 2003. So don't jump on me over Lara's age. In 2003 she _was_ 35. :p**

* * *

_She could see, but only just. No matter how hard she squinted into the gloom, she couldn't make out any detail. She had a vague impression from the acoustics that she was in a stone-walled, high-roofed chamber, but apart from that…_

_There was something there with her, she could tell. One hand twitched towards a thigh-holster that held no weapon and then fell back, still empty. She was defenceless–_

_Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a spark and wheeled towards it, desperate for any advantage against whatever lurked in the darkness with her. And immediately wished she hadn't._

_Veins of jade fire threaded their way through the rock walls of the cavern, sending a sickly green glow to banish the shadows. Even before they reached their destination, the pedestal at the opposite end of the room, Lara knew who would be standing there._

_Standing there with a sardonic smile and a spherical object clutched in his hands, ready to place into the pedestal..._

_05:27_. The numbers of the digital clock shone into Lara's grainy, exhausted eyes as she reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp. _And the same nightmare again._

It was ridiculous. Three weeks had passed since she'd returned home, with considerable relief, from Turkey. In that time she'd been awoken at least twice a week by the nightmares that had started in a hotel in a tiny village a hundred miles north of Cappadocia, and had persisted in hounding her since. It was ridiculous – she was thirty-five, for god's sake, not five – but she'd been unable to shake the dread and revulsion her encounters with Joachim Karel and the Nephilim had left her with.

She exhaled, the breath holding only the barest quiver, and dug around under her pillow for the Desert Eagle she knew would be there. Its weight in her hands was comforting, and she shook her head to dislodge the remainder of the unease the dream had left her with.

It was at times like these she really missed Kurtis.

And there she went again.

Irritation banished Lara's disorientation, and she scowled. If it wasn't one thing, it was the other – thoughts of the Nephilim, or thoughts of Kurtis, her... her _what_, exactly? Whatever he was, her mind turned to him far too often, leaving her confused, pissed off, and – as much as she hated to admit it – lonely.

It was a feeling she wasn't used to, and loathed intensely.

_There's no point in even trying to go back to sleep. _Frustrated, Lara rolled out of bed and left the bed unmade, wandering the silent corridors of Croft Manor in search of hot tea and something to read. Anything to take her mind off a certain American.

* * *

Winston found her in her study three hours later, halfway through a paperback she hadn't absorbed a word of. "Are you alright?" 

The concern on his kindly face was obvious. Lara nodded wearily and tried a smile. "Just a few bad dreams." She accepted the fresh pot of tea and morning paper from him with a nod of thanks, and watched her old friend shuffle from the room.

She had no more luck with the paper than she did the novel. Her restless eyes roamed the page, but she took in only the usual clichéd phrases: _heartbreaking tragedy, extraordinary courage, strength in adversity._ Her attention was still fixed on Karel's triumphant features as he held up… what? _That_ was what she needed to know. For a split-second, whilst she'd been dreaming, she could have sworn she recognised whatever it was he was holding. Upon waking, she'd lost it, but something told her it was important.

Shaking her head, Lara turned the page, dismissing the notion as paranoia. Karel was dead – this time, she was sure of it. He'd been human when he'd died, and by the time Kurtis had finished with him he'd been half-decapitated. So why was she still so convinced her dream was more important than any of the others she'd had?

_Stop it._ Scowling at the newsprint, she took a gulp of tea and searched for an article to distract her. This far into the paper, the stories took up barely half a column each, with the odd tiny picture for emphasis. 'Orphans Raise £200 for Children's Charities', one headline informed her. Below it was a picture of three children, all grinning into the camera. The caption gave the names of the kids – Charlotte Morgan, Tom Walker, and Alessa Limoux.

Lara almost knocked her tea off the arm of the chair. _Limoux…_ _What are the odds?_ An underwater plaque flashed into her mind's eye – two warriors with swords crossed, the initials 'L' and 'V' above them. The Lux Veritatis families Limoux and Vasiley.

_Don't be stupid, Croft. Go back to France, check a phone book, there are probably thousands of families with that surname._

_But what if…?_

During her Turkish adventure, Lara had visited a young woman for information, arriving just hours too late to prevent her murder. Amara Khayam and her three year old daughter, Nabila, had been butchered by Karel, and it was only after the fact that Nabila's Lux Veritatis powers came to light. If she had lived, Kurtis would not have been the last.

Lara was willing to believe that other children existed who carried the power. Children whose parents were killed in the final purge of the Lux Veritatis that Kurtis had told her about, and overlooked due to Karel's arrogance.

She stared at the monochrome photograph, at the dark-haired girl who dutifully smiled for the camera. Was it just her imagination, or was there a touch of melancholy to the child's eyes? Did she possess the Lux Veritatis abilities, and if she did, how much of a strain were they on her?

If left unchecked, this Alessa could become a danger to those around her. She should investigate before the girl inadvertently killed someone.

* * *

For the beginning of October, the weather was surprisingly decent – bright sunshine and only a slight breeze. Lindfield House was an average-looking building in an average-sized town, around twenty minute's drive from the northern city of Leeds. 

Lara pulled the Jeep to a stop just down the street from the orphanage and got out immediately, keen to stretch her legs after the five-hour drive. As she locked the vehicle and began to walk back down the pavement towards her destination, the sense of foreboding that had nagged at her that morning returned.

Her appointment was in ten minutes. Over the phone, she'd styled herself as interested in fostering a child, which a tiny part of her found hilarious in itself. Throughout the drive up, she'd felt it crouching at the back of her head, laughing hysterically at the notion that she would even _pretend_ to be a good, responsible role-model.

But what else could she do?

High railings much like those on a school playground encircled the grounds of Lindfield House, and on the other side Lara glimpsed running, shrieking figures. Small boys playing football, young girls skipping or gathered in groups, whispering and giggling. It looked like hell disguised as paradise. Life lived behind bars.

As she approached, Lara slowed. _There's no way I'm going to be able to do this._ Her eyes cast over the children of assorted ages, and lit on one who stood apart from the others, her eyes wistfully following the activities going on around her.

_Maybe I won't have to._ She had a sneaking suspicion she'd just found her girl. Alessa was tall for her age – which, according to the paper, was thirteen – but hunched over as if trying to avoid notice. She leaned against the railings with her back to the street, quietly observing the football game going on a few yards away.

Lara took a deep breath, well aware that she'd have to be careful. These days, people didn't take kindly to grown adults lurking in the shadows, trying to catch the attention of young children. Before she lost her nerve, she approached a conveniently placed bench that faced out into the street and sat down, pulling a study of ancient Peru from her backpack and feigning nonchalance.

"Alessa." The railings were about five feet behind her, but she hoped the playground noise wouldn't drown out the sound of her voice completely. She listened for a response, but got none. "Alessa Limoux?"

She heard a rustle of cloth, and an indrawn breath. "Huh? D'you say something?" a voice asked her tentatively.

Lara risked a glance over her shoulder, to find the girl staring at her, expression wary. At least she had her attention.

"I need a word with you – could you look as if we're not talking, please? I don't want to get chased off by the supervisors."

For a second, she could have sworn she saw Alessa's lips twitch, as if denying a smile. But the moment passed, and she nodded and turned her back to Lara. She seemed curious at least – good.

"Who're you?"

"My name's Lara Croft. I saw your name in the paper this morning, and…" Lara trailed off. How was she supposed to phrase it? _Alessa__, by any chance are you a member of the Lux Veritatis?_

On the other side of the railings the child was silent, waiting, but Lara sensed her suspicion.

_No other way to do it._ "You might think I'm slightly mad, but by any chance… can you do anything the other kids can't? Anything unusual?" The phrasing was over-vague, but the sharp intake of breath behind her reassured her she was on the right track. She risked another glance behind her to find a pair of wide eyes fixed on her face.

"How'd you know? Are you from social services? Did Philippa tell you to come and take me away? Because I swear I didn't push Charlotte down the stairs, I swear…" Alessa's voice broke mid-tirade, and her eyes filled with tears.

Lara was at a loss as to what to do with a crying child. Quickly, she shook her head. "I'm not from social services. I'm an archaeologist."

To her credit, Alessa pulled herself together almost immediately. "Then what…?" she asked, her brow crinkling with confusion.

"I know there are things out there that most people don't believe in. I think I know why strange things happen around you, and I know someone who can help you get them under control." _He'd better agree to this…_

Hope sparked in the depths of forest-green eyes. "Really?" As if a switch had been flipped, she sobered again. "Charlotte was being a bitch, and something just clicked in my head… and she fell backwards down the stairs. She had a concussion and three ribs broke. I thought I'd… killed her." The girl swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. "It wasn't the first time something like that'd happened, neither."

Sympathy stirred in Lara's mind. The haunted expression on the girl's face would have touched anyone. "Look. I can't do anything while you're in there. Is there any way you can get out?" _Add kidnapping to my ever-growing list of crimes…_

Alessa shook her head. "They keep a close watch on us. Too many runaways over the last couple'a months." She indicated a couple of middle-aged women chatting over cups of coffee in the doorway. "They'd call the police straight away if I ran away with you."

"What about after lights out?"

She made an uncertain motion with her hand. "Risky. Some of the older lads have been trying to break out, so they got 'special dispensation' to put CCTV in the corridors. Whatever that means."

Lara hesitated. Was she really about to say this? How could she possibly take care of a child when she could barely stay out of danger for long enough to sleep?

The memory of Karel's victorious face in her dream decided her. The role of the Lux Veritatis was far from over. She couldn't have explained how she knew, but she was somehow certain of it. Kurtis was going to need all the help he could get.

"We'll take care of the cameras."

"And the locks?"

"And the locks." She paused. "Look out here every evening. If you see a bit of white cloth snagged on one of these railings, that means you have to be ready to get out. We'll come after midnight."

Alessa nodded, frowning. "Why can't you just ask them if you can foster me?"

"I have a criminal record as long as your arm. Never served any time for it, but I'd still be refused." Lara studied the teenager's face for alarm, but all she got was a philosophical shrug.

"Can't be any worse than some of the foster homes I've been in." Her gaze slid away and then back to Lara, and for a split-second the woman glimpsed the desperation in her face.

* * *

For the entire journey back to Croft Manor, Alessa's willingness to trust Lara nagged at her. She'd heard nightmare tales about foster parents who selected children with abuse in mind, and she could understand her concern that she might hurt someone if left untrained, but Alessa had been so accepting it was just too easy. There must be a factor the girl hadn't told her about. 

Ah, well. She'd worry about that later. First she had to tackle a significant obstacle that lay ahead of her – explaining the situation to Kurtis. Lara was sure he'd be about as enthused about caring for Alessa as she was.

By the time she'd settled herself back at home, it was ten o' clock in the evening. Not bothering to work out time differences – she had no idea where in the world he was, anyway – she moved to the phone and picked up the receiver.

Three digits into dialling, she hesitated. It was five days before she and Kurtis had agreed to meet in Paris, back where she'd first laid eyes on him. In the three weeks since she'd seen him last, she hadn't heard from him, or made an effort to contact him. It was a kind of unspoken agreement between them that they'd use the time to think, and to work out what it was they wanted from each other.

She'd spent unhealthy amounts of time each day trying to do just that, and still come to no conclusions. Yes, she missed his company – understatement – and a couple of times Bryce, her systems expert, had even accused her of pining. But at the same time, images of domestic bliss didn't sit at all well with either of them, even when those images didn't include an illegally 'fostered' girl with no control over her telepathy.

He was just going to have to get used to it.

Her stubborn streak standing her in good stead, she cancelled the number and started it again, pushing the final button before she could talk herself out of it.

The phone seemed to ring for a long time. What was Kurtis doing? Lara could imagine him running down back alleys with his Boran X drawn, too busy dodging enemies to answer. The image brought a nostalgic smile to her lips for a second.

Or maybe he was sitting in a chair somewhere, the ringing phone in his hand, staring at the caller-ID that identified her as the one trying to reach him. Wondering if he should pick it up.

She was about to give up, her thumb poised over the disconnect button, when the ringing at the other end ceased. A click, followed by a voice she would have recognised anywhere. "Lara?"

_Score one for the staring at the phone scenario, then._ For some reason, the notion hurt, but she brushed it off. "How are you?"

She could imagine vividly the noncommittal shrug that accompanied his words. "Same old. You?"

What could she say? And why did this feel so awkward? She decided to get straight to the point. "I have some news for you." Without allowing him to get a word in, she told him what had transpired that day.

When she finished, there was a long silence on the line. Lara waited, steeling herself for an argument. She didn't expect the quiet chuckle that reached her ears.

"What?" she asked, a little thrown.

"Unbelievable."

_You can say that again,_ she thought, but bit it back. "I didn't expect you to be so calm."

"I wouldn't say I was thrilled at the prospect, but…" His voice took on a serious edge. "I have a feeling I'll end up thanking you for this."

Before she could stop herself, Lara asked, "Bad dreams?"

In her mind, she could visualize his reaction as perfectly as if he were sitting in the same room: how his gaze would sharpen as he leaned forward in the chair, all his attention on her. "What makes you say that?"

"Been having a few myself." She heard the uneasiness behind the casual air to her own voice, hated it. She was no Lux Veritatis member – so why was she treated to visions of the Nephilim?

He exhaled slowly; she'd given his suspicions foundation. "Let's move our meeting forward."

* * *

**End of first chapter. And yup, this one's gonna be an epic. Let me know what you think, and for god's sake be honest(!)**


	2. Interaction, Injuries, Intrusion

**Author's Note: Hello again, all you lovely people who are taking the time to read my inane scribblings… Glad you guys like it so far. This chapter has kind of a lot of exposition (I'll apologise in advance!) but I stuck a semi-action scene in at the end just to keep everyone on their toes. And before anyone asks, it'll be maybe two chapters before Lara and Kurtis get smoochy. :cough:KTEB:cough:

* * *

**

Someone had spray-painted offensive slogans over the front door of St. Aicard's church since Lara's last visit. Other than that, the Parisian ghetto was much as she remembered it – seedy and unwelcoming. Unsurprisingly, though, it felt less threatening when she wasn't being hunted down for mass-murder.

She turned the corner and meandered past Le Serpent Rouge – the premises still sat unused and silent. The street corner where Janice the streetwalker had chain-smoked a few months ago was empty. For a fleeting moment, Lara wondered what had become of her. She hoped the Frenchwoman hadn't run into a particular brand of 'sicko'.

As she passed the ruined shell of Rennes' pawnshop and ascended the steps up towards the Place D'Arcade, the harsh, abrasive sound of a motorcycle engine drew closer. Quashing anticipation, Lara glanced around for its source, and was forced to jump back as a bike tore out of a nearby alley and past her. She was left with the impression of a familiar grin as it disappeared around the corner.

She bit back a smile of her own and followed its course, crossing the square and heading for the bike and its owner, who raised a hand in a half wave, half salute as he dismounted.

"Impressive display," she told Kurtis Trent, arching an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "I do my best."

For a second, they looked each other over, reacquainting themselves, checking for new battle scars. Then Lara smiled. "All limbs intact, I see. I'm surprised." She pulled open the door and stepped into the cool interior of the café.

"Nah, the left leg's prosthetic," Kurtis deadpanned. She snorted in reply and ordered coffee from Pierre, the owner, who did a wonderful job of pretending he didn't recognise either of them. It was almost comical.

They had the café to themselves – again. It made Lara wonder how Pierre managed to keep the place afloat. Then again, he probably had a few shady business arrangements going with the local crime cartels.

She took a seat opposite Kurtis and winced as he shrugged off his jacket. A bandage was wrapped – a little clumsily - around his muscular left bicep, and he favoured the arm when he moved. "What happened?"

He brushed off her concern. "It doesn't hurt too much."

"Really? Looks like it could do with a proper patching up to me." He was silent, and she let it drop, making a mental note to get the full story from him later. "Where've you been all this time?"

"Home, for the most part. Rouen," he clarified before she could ask. Lara felt a jolt of surprise – she hadn't realised he was so close. He'd never volunteered the information before, and she'd seen no reason to ask. "I went down to Bordeaux, to the Order's headquarters, for a couple days too. But other than that…" He shrugged.

"I think we've both had more than enough excitement for one year, without going looking for it," Lara agreed.

"And it's not over yet." Kurtis ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Did you manage to do what you came here to do?"

An hour earlier, Lara had visited the grave of an old friend – Werner von Croy, the man who had taught her the basics of her craft. It was the reason she'd asked that she meet Kurtis where they'd originally arranged, rather than at Croft Manor.

Now, she nodded. "Yeah. It's a nice spot. Peaceful."

Kurtis reached out and lay his hand over hers for a brief moment before withdrawing it. It was the first acknowledgement either of them had made to the fact that, less than a month before, they had been involved. Logic dictated they still were, but they both knew it was a subject that would come up over time. No need to get into it now.

She nodded her thanks for the gesture – it was all he needed – and drained her coffee cup. "You think we can handle this?" It was hard to say whether she was referring to the situation with Alessa or their complicated relationship.

His ironic expression told her he was thinking the same thing. "Who knows?"

* * *

Croft Manor was much as Kurtis remembered it. Imposing, remote and full of character – a little like its owner. The last time he'd been here, he'd used telekinesis to gain entry – this time, he and Lara were driven through the front gate by Winston, Lara's butler, who'd picked them up from Heathrow airport. 

After throwing backpacks into corners to be worried about later, Lara headed straight for her first-aid cabinet in the kitchen, insisting Kurtis trail along after her. "Sit," she instructed in a tone that would brook no argument, pointing to the long dining-room table visible through the open door. "And take your jacket off."

Scowling, Kurtis took a seat – on the table. When Lara emerged, carrying medical supplies and water, and took in his position, she bit back a smile. "Jacket off," she ordered again. "Don't make me get violent."

"It's fine."

"You're lying." He just stared at her with those unfathomable blue eyes, and she sighed, irritated. He was the only one who could match her for pure stubbornness – why had she missed this? "I won't ask, if that's what's bothering you. I'd just prefer you to have the use of both your arms when we fight whatever we're fighting. And there's no way you can properly dress a wound on one of your arms yourself."

She had a point, and he knew it. Sighing, he slipped out of the jacket and held out his arm.

"Good boy."

"Oh, can the patronising act."

She grinned. "I'm still getting you back for when you left me locked up in the Strahov." The fingers of one hand closed around the flesh of his arm as the other began to unwind the bandage. When the material fell away, she removed the gauze pad underneath with gentle fingers, and hissed in sympathy. The injury hadn't been properly tended to before the dressing was applied, so there was a deceiving amount of dried blood in the area, but even so she could see the gash was nasty. "This is a knife wound."

"Yup," was all he said.

_Why is he being so secretive?_ Mysteries usually interested Lara, but ones such as this tended to annoy her just as much as they attracted her. "A knife wound you could have patched up much better than this. Unless you were in a heck of a hurry…" She trailed off, but he wasn't biting. Ah, well. He'd tell her when he had a mind to.

She wet a cloth and began to clean the injury, starting with the blood that had clotted onto unbroken skin before moving onto the slashed area. As soon as she touched it, Kurtis tensed with the pain, the flesh under her hand shifting a little. Lara kept her mind on the task as best she could, blocking out memories of happier times she had touched him.

She wasn't as successful as she would have liked – as she finished cleaning the arm and reached for the fresh dressing, the sound of his voice caught her off guard. "It's the scar the ceremony master made when I was initiated into the order."

"Not to point out the obvious, but this is a fresh wound." She glanced up at him – he seemed as clueless as she.

"It's been a scar for fifteen years. But when I woke up this morning, it was like this. I'd overslept, so I didn't have time to do much with it." He paused. "I'd dreamed of the ceremony."

Lara exhaled slowly. "Looks like there's something bad on the way." Careful not to knock the cut, she tied off the bandage, and squeezed his shoulder before letting go.

"Yeah. It'd be nice to know what." His voice was light, but his eyes betrayed him. If Lara hadn't known better, she would have said he was afraid.

He flexed the arm, testing it, then looked up at her. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet. I lost to you last time we sparred – if I have to hurt that arm to get the edge next time, I will." A split-second of understanding flashed between them, and then she got up. "Hungry?"

* * *

"So we're going in for this Alessa. When? How?" Kurtis twisted his Chirugai in his fingers, eyes on Lara. 

Things had been easier between them than he'd expected. In the past, they'd had more than their fair share of arguments, but she seemed less confrontational now than she had been in Turkey. Perhaps their separation had done them both good.

Having said that, they were still keeping one another at arm's length. He guessed it was a good thing to concentrate on the matter at hand, and he'd never expected Lara to fling herself into his arms as soon as she saw him. But still…

"All being well, we'll go in tomorrow night. Pick the locks, chloroform any security, smash the cameras..." Lara's voice brought him back down to earth. She was smiling a little – perhaps she'd caught onto his train of thought.

He concentrated on the words. "Sounds like overkill for an orphanage, even one with a lot of runaways."

Lara shrugged, eyes thoughtful. "Maybe that's just the excuse they're giving. They could be keeping an eye on Alessa."

There was logic in the argument, and Kurtis grimaced. "It wouldn't surprise me if there was some kind of 'psychic phenomena' hack analysing her. Probably pays the orphanage enough to keep it running for years."

"Hmm. Perhaps, but I don't think that's it." She frowned at the rug in front of her. "There's something she's not telling me. Maybe she thought I'd change my mind if I knew about it."

It was an interesting notion, and in light of wounds that were opening by themselves and unsettling visions in the form of dreams, it was all too plausible.

"Will you have to train her from scratch?" Lara asked. "She didn't mention having gone through anything like it before."

He shook his head. "If I'm right about who she's related to, her parents were killed in 2000, in the last individual attack before the final purge. Piers Limoux would have trained her before that. If he hadn't, she and everyone around her would be dead by now." His memory took him back to a peer of his, Helene Occitan, who had refused training from the very beginning. She had been late coming into her powers and had grown used to the idea of a normal life. By trying to run from her abilities, she had almost brought her house down around her family, and had spontaneously combusted two months later.

He shrugged himself clear of the recollection and continued, "She's just three years behind. I'd say she knows control of a sort, but her power's grown as she has, and she doesn't know enough to contain it."

He looked up to find Lara watching him intently. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Did you ever meet her parents?"

"A few times. Piers and my father were close." Piers had been the ceremony master at his initiation. _Is it connected?_ There was too much he didn't know.

"Didn't the order try to get custody of Alessa?"

He shrugged. "My father mentioned it, but there must've been complications. I didn't really keep track." He knew he was being irrational, but a part of him felt guilty – the way he always did when he remembered his estrangement from the Lux Veritatis in the days they'd needed him the most.

Something he had said was obviously puzzling Lara. For a few seconds, she was quiet, but then she spoke. "I always meant to ask. You said everyone but you was wiped out in that final attack, but what about Mathias Vasiley?"

_She never misses a thing._ "Mathias… was different. He was born into one of the two most powerful families – Limoux being the other – but he had no ability. No telekinesis, nothing. He became a scholar, an expert in the ways of the order, but he may as well have been a civilian. No one could figure out why."

"Ah." Her face cleared, then clouded again. "One more question. Why am _I_ getting these dreams?"

It was a good point. All he could do was answer honestly. "I have no idea."

* * *

_Lara walked a corridor she was familiar with – the underground passages of Karel's underground fortress in Cappadocia. She'd hoped to never see this place again, in sleep or in waking, but it looked like whoever was orchestrating these dreams didn't give a damn about that._

_She turned the corner and halted. A few feet away was the entrance to the Nephilim city, the passageway where André, the only being born of an angel and a proven saint, had sacrificed himself to save the human race. Her friend lay motionless and bloody on the floor, killed by a vicious iron spike trap._

_He moved, dragging himself to his feet, and she realised the body was not André's after all. Joachim Karel staggered towards her, something clutched in his grasp, but she was unable to tear her eyes from his face to identify it._

_He lunged, claws scrabbling for her face, and–_

–Lara woke, her entire body soaked with sweat. "Jesus," she whispered.

Something moved to her left. Without stopping to think, she pulled her gun from under her pillow and aimed it straight at the silhouette, at head level.

"Hey, it's me. Don't shoot." As soon as she recognised Kurtis' voice, she relaxed – a little.

"What're you doing in here?" She reached out for the lamp-switch to illuminate the room, but he caught her hand.

"There's someone coming in. Through the back, it sounds like."

Catching his intent, she nodded her approval at his foresight. Turn on the lights, and whoever it was would know they were awake. "I'm going to kill Bryce," she muttered, kicking off the covers and standing up. "No matter how tight he makes my security, there's always some bugger who manages to get in." As best she could in the dark, she double-checked her weapon's safety. "You armed?"

She caught his grin through the gloom. "Always."

"You go downstairs," she instructed, crossing the room to the sliding glass doors out to the balcony. "I'll meet them from the outside."

For a second, she thought he might protest, but then he nodded and headed for the door. "Watch yourself."

"And you." _God, I've missed this._ She tucked her Desert Eagle into the waistband of her sweatpants and climbed over the edge of her balcony. It was a long drop to the ground, but nothing she couldn't handle. She hung from the railing by her hands for a moment, and then let herself fall.

She hit the ground and dropped into a crouch, wincing at the pain that flared up her ankles. As soon as she could, she rose and drew the gun, glancing around. _There._ A black-clad figure was fiddling with the lock on the kitchen door, and another was standing nearby, flashlight in one hand, some kind of semiautomatic in the other.

Lara was certain she didn't want to be on the receiving end of that.

Sticking to the shadows, she moved to within firing distance and sighted down the barrel. One clean shot, and the bastard was down. His companion yelped, but barely had time to locate her before he, too, was struck dead.

_Is that all of them? _Somehow, Lara doubted it. Making as little noise as possible, she jogged around to the front of the manor, finding nothing suspicious, and then round to the opposite side, where the side door stood open. Her fortress was breached.

Anger dulling her common sense, she stalked through the door and almost ran into Kurtis, who signalled her to be quiet. Following his gaze, she saw a lone figure skulking past her indoor swimming pool, tapping the panelling of the walls as though trying to locate the entrance to a secret room. _There's nothing there. What the heck is he looking for?_

Movements becoming frantic, the intruder continued his search, coming up with exactly nothing, as Lara had known he would. She itched to let him know of her presence, but common sense told her he might betray something by his actions if he thought he was alone.

After a few moments, he appeared to give up, and turned in the direction of the kitchen, presumably looking to confer with his buddies. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lara, and reached for his semiautomatic.

"Don't even think about it." His hand faltered as she and Kurtis both levelled their weapons at his head. "Stay still, and keep your hands where I can see them." She moved towards him, relying on the moonlight reflected by the pool's water to illuminate her way.

"Who are you working for?" she snapped. Close-up, she could see he was very young, only just out of his teens, but with an insolence to his expression that warned her not to discount his capabilities.

He sneered at her. "I'll die before I tell you anything."

"Kurtis, you ever tortured anyone before?" She kept her tone breezy and casual – as if the idea didn't bother her.

"Always willing to try out new things," Kurtis replied behind her. She couldn't see his expression, but she was willing to bet his face was absolutely blank. It was an ability that pissed her off no end when he used it on her, but at times like this it could be invaluable.

The youth's cocky expression wavered for a second before returning full-force. "Do what you want. I am loyal to my lord."

_My lord… wasn't that what Karel's acolytes called him?_ Unease made her lose some of her composure, and she aimed the gun at his kneecap. "Oh, you'll talk by the time I'm through with you." She fired a single round past his leg, tearing the cloth of his fatigues but leaving the flesh intact. "Have you got anything to say for yourself yet? Or do I make sure the next shot doesn't miss?"

His face blanching, the lad opened his mouth to speak, but then his eyes widened, and he screamed. For a second, it was unclear why, but then a jet of green flame burst from his mouth, and he died, burnt from the inside out. Even after the life left his eyes, the flame continued to consume him at an unnatural rate until there was nothing recognisable left.

Lara stared at the pile of ash for a long moment, before raising her eyes to meet Kurtis'. "What the hell?"

* * *

**Don'tcha**** just love cliffhangers?**


	3. Operation: Kidnap

**Author's Note: Hello again, all… Thanks for reviewing so far, I appreciate the feedback. Also thanks to Jordy and Rachel for looking parts of this one over and donating ideas – I give you full credit for the Nephilim Flicker.

* * *

**

Kurtis' Boran X prototype didn't take kindly to silencers – subtlety had never been a strong suit with him – so it was left to Lara to take out the CCTV cameras fixed at strategic points around the building. Whilst she sighted and shot out each one, he slipped into Farsee, pushing his consciousness out to pinpoint any hostile activity in the area. By the time he returned to his body, he knew which lock-picks he'd need and where Alessa was – as well as the location of the amateurish 'surveillance station' where one bored security guard snoozed.

It was going to be a cinch.

Five minutes later, the guard was slumped over his desk, having inhaled an unhealthy amount of chloroform. Lara slowly released her grip on his head and stepped back, glancing across at him. Her hiked eyebrow was easy to interpret. _Now what?_

He pointed upwards, and they headed for the back stairs, their steps as light and soundless as they could make them. Working from the memory of his earlier exploration, Kurtis led the way through the characterless hallways toward the girl's sleeping quarters at the back of the building.

Upon reaching the door, he paused, uncertain. Extracting the girl they needed from a room full of sleeping kids was going to be a trial – one wrong move could see both his and Lara's asses in jail before they had time to blink.

As a precaution, he moved through the closed door in Farsee, double-checking the occupants of the room were all asleep. He only needed one glance around to realise they'd run into a complication.

One of the beds in the room was unoccupied. Alessa Limoux was nowhere to be seen.

'She's gone,' he told Lara without preamble.

"Gone?" she whispered back, thrown. "Gone where?"

The urge to snap _how the hell should I know?_ was almost overwhelming, but he ignored it. "Watch my back."

He left his body behind once more, and started his search at the front of the converted mansion, sweeping the corridors and weaving in and out of closed rooms. It only took a couple of minutes for him to determine that his quarry must be somewhere closer to the rear of the orphanage.

On the fast-track route back to his body, he passed the front stairs. He was moving so fast that he couldn't be sure, but he thought he detected a movement. _Alessa?_

He backtracked, arriving at the top of the stairs in time to watch a man reach the upper hallway and hesitate, as if trying to decide where to go. He was dressed in security uniform, though Kurtis could have sworn there had been only one guard when he'd checked the place out. He could have been relief for the unconscious man downstairs – his movements were cautious enough for him to have discovered his fallen colleague. But Kurtis wasn't buying it. The guy just looked too out of place, as if he was unfamiliar with the surroundings.

At best, he was someone to be avoided. At worst, he was after Alessa.

As the guard chose a direction – mercifully neglecting the route that would lead to their discovery – Kurtis began to move away again, ready to continue his search for the kid. A staccato movement at the corner of his eye made him turn to analyse the guy one more time, and he mentally cursed. _Oh, you gotta be kidding me…_

The guard's skin was shifting, just a little. On the exposed flesh of his head and neck, a familiar network of veins flickered, one minute prominent, the next only just visible. The man stopped in his tracks, appearing preoccupied, and after a few seconds the movement receded until the veins were gone. Only then did he continue on his way.

_Nephilim_ There was another word that wanted to force its way into Kurtis' mind, especially in light of the previous night's green fire incident, but he refused to entertain it – at least until he and Lara were safe.

_He's definitely looking for Alessa._ His hold on the Farsee power was slipping, and he let go of it, returning to his own body. "Nephilim – down the hall."

"_What!_" Lara stared at him, suppressed horror in her eyes. "Is it Karel?"

"I don't know. Probably. I have to find Alessa." She gave a grim nod, but he was already gone, moving through corridors at the rear of the orphanage. Sooner than he'd hoped, he found a girl sneaking down the hall, fully dressed and carrying a backpack.

The bad news was, she was about to walk into the enemy's path.

Kurtis released his grip on the Farsee power and began to move his corporeal form as soon as he had control over it. "Found her."

Alessa was approaching the corner that would take her into Karel's line of sight when Kurtis relocated her. With no other option left to him, he lunged and grabbed the girl, stifling her scream with one hand. "Sssh!" he hissed, hating the fact that he was using force on a child.

Lara caught up with him, and upon seeing her Alessa's struggles stilled. Kurtis released her, and she frowned her bewilderment up at the woman, hardly giving him a glance. "What's going on?"

"There's someone down that way, looking for you. If he catches us…" she hesitated, but Kurtis could hear the rest of the sentence as clearly as if she'd spoken it. _We're all dead._

"…things could get… risky." She softened the impact of the sentence, but she had paused for too long. Alessa's face had paled, and she made no attempt to hide her fear. In the back of Kurtis' mind, alarm bells began to sound, but he wasn't quite sure why.

"Let me check things out," he told Lara, and went back into Farsee. His grip on the power was beginning to waver – he was pushing himself past his limits – but he pressed on, checking Karel's position. The half-Nephilim had reached a T-junction of sorts; his options were either to move towards them or away. Kurtis held his breath, hanging onto the Farsee despite the fact that bright lights were beginning to spot his vision.

For a second, the uniform-clad figure hesitated, turned to look Kurtis' way. Although he knew he was invisible to all but members of the Lux Veritatis in this form, the American could have sworn Karel stared straight at him.

The moment passed, and he turned in the opposite direction, opened the nearest door and moved a little way inside the room. As soon as he was sure they were safe for the moment, Kurtis returned to his body, finding his body collapsed on the ground and Lara checking his pulse.

He re-entered himself and waved her away, fighting dizziness as he stood up. "I'm okay, just tired."

"Karel?"

"We're safe, for now. If we hurry, we can make it out." The floor was trembling beneath his feet – he must have really overreached himself. He took deep breaths to try and steady himself, but the sensation only increased.

"What the hell?" Lara murmured, and suddenly the seed of concern sewn when Kurtis had noticed how frightened Alessa was became a full-grown realisation. Without the proper control, and under stress, her powers were getting away from her without her realising it. It wouldn't take long for this added phenomenon to add to her panic, and then they were in real trouble. Doors would slam, objects would fly across rooms, and Karel would be alerted to their presence immediately.

Thinking fast, he squatted down in front of Alessa. She stared at him with wide eyes.

"I need you to calm down. I can get you out of this, but only if you don't panic. Okay?" For a second, she didn't appear to understand, but then she nodded. "How far on are you in your training? You get your level one?"

Again she nodded, and the floorboards settled slightly as she exhibited a little pride. "And two."

Kurtis pushed aside his surprise – it could wait. "Good. Remember how to levitate stuff?" Another nod. "Don't lift anything, but go there." Her eyes grew unfocused as she moved her awareness into herself. "Now go left a bit, and back." _Lara's gonna think I'm crazy._ He moved through his own mind to check his direction as he spoke. "There should be a place there, where there's no power. Am I right?"

For a second, Alessa was quiet, but then she surfaced, triumphant. "Got it." Below their feet, the movement subsided and then stopped altogether.

Making a mental note to congratulate himself with several cans of beer later on, Kurtis glanced up at Lara, who gave a brief smile. "Nice work. Now let's get out of here."

"Sounds like a plan."

Shepherding their new protégé between them, he and Lara fled.

* * *

For the first couple of miles they drove in silence, contemplating their lucky escape. Kurtis reclined in the passenger seat, eyes closed – and more exhausted than he was willing to admit, Lara guessed – and Alessa sat in the back, every now and then twisting to check for pursuers out of the rear window.

It wasn't until they turned onto the M606 that Lara glanced in the rear-view mirror at the girl. "You alright?"

"I think so." Far from being frightened now, Alessa seemed wonderstruck. "Are you really Lux Veritatis?"

_You'd think I bloody was, the way I keep getting sucked into this…_ Keeping her thoughts to herself, Lara replied, "I'm not. Kurtis is."

"Cool. What's your last name?" she asked him, leaning forward in her seat.

"Trent."

Alessa's voice took on a wariness that pleased Lara – she was going to need that caution to survive. "That's not a Lux Veritatis name." For the first time, she seemed to appreciate that she was in a car travelling at high speed away from everything she knew, with only two strangers for guides.

"I changed it," Kurtis said simply. Lara had thought as much when she'd been unable to find anything about his early life when she'd researched him three months ago, but hearing it confirmed ignited fresh curiosity within her.

"Then what did it _used_ to be?" Alessa asked impatiently, before Lara could.

"I was a DeCombel."

Alessa relaxed, recognising the name. "It doesn't suit you."

Lara couldn't see Kurtis' expression in the darkened interior of the car, but she could have sworn he was suppressing a smile. "That's why I changed it."

Though she knew there was more to it than that, Lara didn't bother to enlighten Alessa. Instead, she mused upon this new information. Kurtis' father was French, so his mother must have been American; there was no other explanation for his accent, not when he'd been living in France since he was nineteen or earlier. She made a mental note to ask him about it later.

"So… did you know Konstantin DeCombel?" Alessa asked, tentative.

For the first time, Kurtis looked back at her. "My father."

"I… used to hear from him a lot, back when I was first taken into care. He was trying to foster me. But then he stopped visiting. Is he…?" she trailed off, not wanting to voice the rest.

In the glow of a passing streetlight, Lara saw his jaw tighten, just a little. "He's dead."

"I thought so," Alessa whispered, biting her lip. "Sorry."

"It's okay. It was a while ago."

Awkwardness descended upon the occupants of the Jeep. Alessa didn't speak again, and when Lara looked back to check on her five minutes later, the child was slumped in her seat, her exhaustion and the car's movement having lulled her into sleep.

Lara had a feeling she was going to need all the rest she could get.

* * *

"Alessa? Hey, wake up."

The world swam back into focus, and Alessa blinked up at the man – Kurtis, she remembered after a second – who was gently shaking her shoulder.

"Wha…?" she mumbled, still drowsy.

"C'mon. We're here." He stepped back to let her slide out of the backseat and moved away. He seemed kind of… embarrassed. Maybe he wasn't used to talking to kids.

Dragging her backpack out after her, she slammed the car door and turned to follow him. As soon as she registered her surroundings, she woke up in a hurry. "_Whoa!_"

The house was even bigger than Lindfield House, almost as large as the Lux Veritatis headquarters she'd visited with Papa before his death. There were fountains and flowerbeds and huge iron gates – and they were just the parts she could see. She'd definitely hit the jackpot this time.

She trotted to catch up with Kurtis, who was just following Lara through the front door of the mansion. "You're rich!"

"You could say that…" Lara shrugged out of her jacket, and Alessa froze. _She's got a gun. No, she's got _two!

"You people are _hardcore._" Not for the first time, she wondered how safe she was with them. They struck her as the type that would be great to have on your side, but if you pissed them off…

She made a mental note to be really nice to them.

"What? Oh." Lara seemed to notice her weapons for the first time. She and Kurtis exchanged glances. Alessa got the feeling they were new to the parenting thing.

"Don't worry your head too much about that," a new voice told her. She spun to pinpoint an elderly man who was descending the stairs, fully dressed. He looked friendly enough, and he wasn't armed, at least, not that she could see. "They're no danger to you. The guns are to protect you."

"Alessa, this is Winston," Lara said. "He's my butler."

"Nice to meet you." Papa had brought her up to be polite, if nothing else.

"Hello, Alessa." His face crinkled into a smile. She relaxed a bit – surely if a kind old man like this lived with Lara and Kurtis, they couldn't be that bad. "You look tired. Here, give me that bag. I'll take you to your room and you can get some rest."

Alessa looked to Lara for confirmation. "Go on," her new 'mother' said. "We'll fill you in tomorrow."

With some measure of relief, Alessa followed the butler upstairs. Her weariness was beginning to creep back up on her, making her nervous. _What if…_ She pushed the thought away. _There's nothing I can do about it_.

"That's Lara's room… and Kurtis' is this one…" Alessa looked up at him, surprised. She'd assumed Lara and Kurtis were married, or at least seeing each other. _Weird._ Winston stopped another two doors down. "And you'll be sleeping here."

She hesitated on the threshold of a room decorated in shades of light blue and gazed around her. The bed was a double – a luxury she'd never had even at home – and the room itself was larger than the entire girls' dormitory at the orphanage. "Wow."

Winston smiled at her. "There's a bathroom through that door there, and an extra blanket in the wardrobe if you need it." He placed the backpack on the bed and looked over at her. "Please, don't mind Lara's attitude. She's never really had the opportunity to spend time with children before, so I think she's a bit lost. Mr. Trent, too, I shouldn't wonder."

Alessa nodded slowly, digesting this. "Winston… why do they have guns? Are they like the Mafia or something?"

The old man chuckled. "Oh, no. They just have… a lot to worry about. I'm sure Lara will tell you about it tomorrow." The girl frowned; she was no less in the dark now than she had been before she'd asked the question, but she was too tired to push it.

Winston bid her goodnight and closed the door behind him with a soft click. Alessa barely had the energy to change into her pyjamas and crawl under the covers, and could feel sleep slipping over her as soon as her head hit the pillow. Her last conscious thought was to pray that _it_ didn't happen again, and then she slept.

* * *

**Next chapter: Lara/Kurtis smoochies, oh yes... and rather a lot of blood… But the smoochies are more important!**


	4. Unseen Attack

**Author's Note: Thanks as always for the reviews… :chocolate for review-givers: One thing I will say… you do not know what you think you know. Mwa ha ha! Now here's a chapter with fluff, since you're all such nice people.

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**

She found Kurtis on her bedroom balcony, staring out as the sunrise washed a pinkish glow over her assault course. His intrusion into her private sanctum neither surprised nor troubled her.

Unaware of her presence, he threw his Chirugai out into the air, where it spun dangerously for a few seconds before homing back into his grip. A second later, he sent it out again. To Lara, it seemed like a lethal version of a yoyo.

Not bothering to announce herself, she stepped up beside him. If she'd startled him, he didn't show it. "She asleep?"

"Mmm. Why aren't you?"

"Not sleeping too well, lately. Thought I'd put it off for a while." He glanced across at her. "Am I keeping you up?"

Lara shook her head. "No. Feel free to waltz into my bedroom any time you feel like it."

He laughed at the unexpected barb. "Sorry. After all those hotel rooms in Turkey it just feels natural."

Not sure whether to be amused or unnerved, Lara changed the subject. "How's your arm?"

He rolled back his shoulder, testing his mobility, and nodded. "Better. Could probably do with another dressing, though. If you wouldn't mind." The last was said with a tinge of uncertainty.

"I think I can just about manage that." There was a first-aid kit in her en suite bathroom, and it was a simple matter to locate it. As she worked, the sky continued to lighten around them.

They had a history with balconies and sunrises, Kurtis and she. Lara wondered if he remembered all the times they'd argued and conversed, and the times the arguments and conversations had become something more.

"I see way too many sunrises with you." He sent a shrewd glance her way, and Lara inwardly winced. Was she that transparent, or were they just on the same wavelength?

"Most people would call it 'romantic'," she said, tone offhand.

"Isn't that sunsets?" He nodded thanks as she finished and closed the first-aid kit.

"Maybe for normal people."

For the first time since their reunion, their gazes met and held. Lara had meant to keep an emotional distance from him, at least until they had a better grip on what was going on, but at the eye contact she felt her resolve slipping. It didn't help that they were so close to each other, or that every tiny memory of their previous relationship came rushing back to her at that moment.

She stepped away from him, cursing the stubborn streak that always seemed to kick in at moments like this. "Kurtis…"

He shrugged, turned his eyes back to the horizon. "You started it." Despite the childish phrase, the words were spoken without petulance or accusation; just the statement of a fact.

Sometimes it was so damned hard to figure out what he was thinking.

He was right, though. She had mentioned the 'r' word, almost without thinking. Deep down, she wanted things back to the way they had been the last time they'd seen each other.

She opened her mouth to speak, not entirely sure what she was about to say. As the first syllable began to leave her lips, a short, sharp sound split the air.

A scream, brief but terrified. Kurtis' head snapped up, and for a split-second they stared at each other, each seeking confirmation that the other had heard it too. Then, as one, they sprinted for the door and down the hall to Alessa's suite.

Kurtis had the edge, reaching the door first and tearing it open. Lara, unprepared for his hesitation on the threshold, almost barrelled straight into him, bringing herself to a stop with only inches to spare. "What…?" she began, following his gaze. When her eyes lit upon Alessa, for a second she could only stare in utter incomprehension.

The girl was sitting up in bed, weeping quietly now. Blood stained the back of her pyjama shirt and spotted the bedsheets.

As soon as she managed to break through the temporary paralysis in her limbs, Lara moved past Kurtis and up to the bed. "What happened?" She sat down and, after a brief hesitation, took Alessa's hand. At the friendly contact, the child threw her arms around Lara's neck, sobbing.

Feeling somewhat at a loss, Lara patted her head. "It's alright. You're safe." _Good god, that's the most pathetic attempt at comforting someone…_ a voice in the back of her head jibed. Lara ignored it.

Without prompting, Kurtis drew his weapon and moved to check the bathroom and windows for signs of an intruder. Alessa drew back and shook her head. "It's okay, no one's here. It's my fault."

"How…?" Lara started, but trailed off as she remembered how Kurtis had gotten the injury to his arm. "Let me see."

At Alessa's consent, she peeled the saturated cloth away from the skin, exposing long slashes all the way up her spine. They were superficial wounds, though the amount of blood made them seem more serious than they actually were. She wouldn't need hospital treatment.

Her first aid training taking over, Lara became businesslike. "Right, I need you to lie down, on your stomach." As her patient complied, Kurtis returned with her medical supplies. Lara hadn't even realised that he'd left.

"Need help?"

"Don't think so. Thanks, though." She turned back to Alessa, who was calmer than she could have hoped for. "I need to put pressure on these to stop them bleeding, okay?" Over the next few minutes, she stemmed the blood-flow and cleaned the injuries. As she cleared the skin of excess blood, it became obvious that this had happened before. Faint, silvery scars from earlier wounds became visible, and Lara sucked in her breath.

"This happen before?" Kurtis asked, before she could.

Alessa nodded, eyes downcast. "Never this badly before, though." She stared at a bloody patch on the sheet next to her. "I ruined your bed."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lara said absently, still paying more attention to her endeavours than to the conversation. She didn't notice Alessa bite her lip at the harsh phrasing.

"Were you dreaming?" Kurtis fixed her with an intense gaze.

Intimidated, she stammered, "Y-yeah. A… A blonde man." Above her, swift glances were exchanged. "I-I don't know what's going on."

Lara finished applying sterile dressings to the area and sat back. "Well, that makes three of us."

* * *

The next afternoon saw Kurtis alone in Croft Manor, something he hadn't expected. He'd spent hours lying awake, contemplating how best to go about training Alessa and how to combat the attacks they'd both suffered whilst dreaming. Not to mention what to do about his relationship with Lara.

As a result of this – and his overuse of Farsee earlier that night – he'd slept late, emerging from his room at two o' clock and finding the place silent and empty.

During his explorations he'd found a note on the dining room table that started, '_Gone shopping with Alessa. Yes, really.'_ Hearing Lara's unenthusiastic voice in his head, Kurtis had laughed aloud. '_Make yourself at home. Shouldn't be long – I want to make this as quick and painless as possible. Any smart remarks when I get back and I WILL kill you. Lara.'_ Underneath, three 'x's had been carved into the paper in a childish scrawl – obviously a certain thirteen-year-old had taken it upon herself to play matchmaker.

Formulating smart remarks for when Lara returned, Kurtis headed into the gym. On his previous stay, he'd not had time to try it out, and this time around he meant to take full advantage of it.

As he trained, his mind wandered back to Lara - _who else?_ he thought to himself, torn between bitterness and amusement. He wasn't sure what to make of the woman at the best of times, but their three-week separation had made her even harder to read than usual. They'd both thought it would be a good idea, but it had left Kurtis more confused than ever, and he could tell Lara felt the same.

It was going to be a nightmare getting her to open up to him again–

"Penny for them."

Kurtis started; he hadn't heard Lara return. She sat on one of her vaulting blocks with his Boran X in her lap – payback, he supposed, for when he'd caught her in just this situation three months earlier.

"I don't need a penny."

She shrugged, threw him the gun. He caught it and checked the safety before placing it back on the block he'd left it on. "How'd the mother-daughter bonding session go?"

She shot him a withering look. "Oh, don't even start."

He grinned and resumed his assault on the punching bag. "You get matching outfits down Oxford Street?"

"Guildford, actually. And, _no_."

Kurtis could tell he was really pissing her off. Damn shame his conscience didn't seem to be kicking in. He had a feeling that opportunities for light-heartedness would be few and far between once things started getting nasty. "Did you have to say 'you're not going out dressed like that'?" He aimed another punch at the well-beaten bag.

Her response surprised him. Intercepting his fist, she twisted his arm and propelled him into the wall, pressing him there with her body weight. The arm lock was more incapacitating than painful.

"I'm not letting you out of this until you promise to shut up," she breathed in his ear. Beneath the annoyance lurked a subtle hint of playfulness he hadn't expected.

"I see right through your little scam," he teased back. "Always looking for an excuse to feel me up." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her veiled smile.

"Quite an ego you've got there," she said, leaning harder against him.

"Well, you know what they say about guys with big egos…" He felt her chuckle vibrate through his back. "You gonna let me go yet?"

"Not quite." Leaning over his shoulder, she brushed the corner of his mouth with a tentative kiss. Her grip on his arm slackened enough for him to break her hold, and he turned towards her, grabbing her arm as she stepped back from him. A protest began to form on her tongue, but he didn't give her the chance to verbalise it. Before she could say a word, he pulled her to him and kissed her again.

It was as if they had never been apart. She leaned into him, the movement of her lips against his familiar and enticing all at once. Her arms tightened around his neck, but before things could get too heated an emphatic voice registered on the edge of his consciousness.

"Ewww, _sick_!"

Snapped back into awareness of their surroundings, they pulled back from each other to find Alessa hovering in the doorway, her face twisted between mirth and disgust. "Winston says 'we've found the food'." Message delivered, she ran back through to the kitchen.

A second of silence followed as Kurtis stared after her, then turned his gaze to Lara. For a moment neither reacted, but then Lara's face split into a reluctant smile. Remembering the expression on the kid's face, Kurtis had to grin, too.

"Time to get back to business," she said. It was much a friendly warning for him to back off as a complaint, but Kurtis had expected it. He followed her into the kitchen with a twinge of disappointment at the loss of contact between them.

His frustration at Alessa's intrusion vanished as she passed him a plate of fish and chips with a knowing smirk. It was one English food he could definitely get used to, although he'd never get used to the strange British name for fries.

He could see why it had taken the combined skills of a butler and a thirteen-year-old girl to unearth the food. Around the kitchen were scattered more shopping bags than Kurtis had ever seen in one place at the same time. He raised an eyebrow at Lara. "Get a little carried away?"

She sighed, pushing three bags out of her way so she could sit down. "She didn't have anything." It was true. After last night's incident, Alessa's only pyjamas had been too bloodied for her to wear. She'd ended up wearing one of Kurtis' shirts for the remainder of the night – something Lara hadn't even tried to hide her amusement over. "And I couldn't be bothered to argue with her."

"You did!" Alessa accused through a mouthful of mushy peas. "You wouldn't let me buy that black top!"

Lara rolled her eyes. "Because you looked like you should have been standing on a street corner in Soho in it." Off Alessa's blank look and Winston's pointed cough, she shook her head. "Forget it. I bought you things. Be grateful."

Sheepish, Alessa nodded. "Thanks, Lara." She finished off her meal and got up. "Can I go put these in my room?" At the curt nod, she gathered up as many bags as she could carry – about two thirds of what was scattered around – and vanished upstairs.

"Try some tact, Lara," Winston advised, gathering up the plates as the adults finished their food. "She's still young, no matter how mature she acts."

"That _was_ tact." Moving as wearily as if she'd just faced off against a horde of mercenaries with machine guns, Lara got up. "I'm going to call Bryce, get him to come over here. I want maximum security for as long as there are Nephilim about."

* * *

Lara dropped into an armchair, relieved to be out of Kurtis' scrutiny for the first time since their kiss.

_What the hell are you thinking?_ she asked herself. _Where's your self-control?_

The truth was, she hadn't been able to help it. After what Alessa had referred to as 'thirty-five million hours of shopping', Kurtis' mocking comments had hit home harder than they should have. She'd lost her temper and used force to shut him up, but habit had resurfaced unexpectedly. Without thinking, she'd pressed herself too close, and from there all she'd been able to think about was how right it felt to be near him. Kissing him had been an instinctual response she'd regretted as soon as she heard Alessa's voice.

_You started it._ She heard Kurtis' words again, and shook her head in frustration. She had, both times without thinking about it. She needed to do something productive.

Although she wasn't sure how productive a phone call to Bryce would be.

"Hi, this is Bryce. I'm fighting Ultimecia on Final Fantasy VIII, so I probably won't answer the phone. Leave a message and I'll call back when I've triumphed over evil." Beep.

"It's Lara. I have no idea what you're doing or why, but I need you to pick up _now_." She waited; the line hissed static at her in response. "Pause the damned game, Bryce."

After a second, a click sounded as the phone was picked up. "Lara, you're such a spoilsport," Bryce complained. His voice had that hyperactive quality it always did when he'd been playing computer games for twelve hours straight – a common occurrence.

"What's your schedule for the next couple of weeks?" She watched Alessa descend the stairs in a new pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, and felt a pang of resignation. "Oh, who am I kidding? The next couple of months, at least."

"Errr… I've got a few jobs ongoing. Why?"

"Can you work from home? I need you over here."

"For a couple of _months?_ What's going on?" She could sense him beginning to resurface from whatever fantasy world his game was set in.

"Karel." The one word was all she needed.

"_What!_ How?"

"It's a long story. Can you get over here tomorrow? Bring whatever you need; there's room for it. I'll fill you in then."

"You alright?" His tone was cautious, and Lara knew he was thinking of the Turkish incident that had claimed her life, albeit only for a few minutes. It was something she'd been trying not to remember.

"I'm fine." Denial was a wonderful thing. At that moment she was anything but fine, but all she could do was soldier on.

Bryce didn't push it, something she was thankful for. However, he changed the subject to something nearly as disconcerting. "Called Kurtis yet?"

Deciding not to rise to the bait, Lara kept her cool. "He's already here."

"Oh, _really_?" She'd only given him more ammunition, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. The chief reason being because she'd already thought it all, more than once. Irritated, she scowled at the carpet.

"Yes, really. I'll see you tomorrow, then." Without waiting for his reply, she hung up. Unfortunately, this didn't solve the problem of her mental image of Bryce hooting with laughter as he replaced his receiver.

* * *

**I think I may have been a bit OOC in this chapter… let me know what you think? Next chapter: Alessa gets put through her paces.**


	5. Training

**Author's Note**: **I thought the Final Fantasy reference would get a couple of comments!** **Thanks for the feedback, people… I appreciate it. Once Bryce gets back into the story there's going to be a step-up with the humour, but until then we have… errr… exposition. Sorry! But Lara/Kurtis huggles too, so you have to read it!**

**

* * *

**"Hey, kid." 

Alessa looked up from her book to find Kurtis leaning round the doorframe. "Hiya."

"Time to show me what you can do." Without waiting for her response, he headed off down the stairs.

Alessa had known this was coming, but now the moment was here her stomach knotted with apprehension. _What if I'm not as good as he thinks I am? What if I lose it and hurt him by mistake? What if…_ Trying not to think about it, she lay down the book and followed his retreating back to the gym.

Once there, she crossed to one of the clear areas and turned an expectant gaze on Kurtis, who stared back for a second, feeling a little lost. "Okay," he began. "You said you had your level two, right?" At her nod, he continued, "I'm gonna test that, starting with level one and working up. Can you levitate this?" He took a pound coin out of his pocket and placed it on one of the vaulting blocks.

Some of the tension left her as she recognised the easy task, and she nodded. With the barest twitch of her fingers, the coin rose into the air and stayed there, stock still.

Her control was excellent, Kurtis noted with approval. The floating object stayed exactly in place, not even the slightest tremor displacing it. "Steer it to my hand. Don't throw it yet, though."

She frowned, her eyes still on the coin. Her fingers flicked again, a slower, more obvious movement this time, and it floated through the air and into Kurtis' open palm. "That okay?"

"Yeah." Kurtis deposited the coin back on the block and moved five paces back from it. "Now throw it at me."

She wavered. "Hard?" He sensed her fear of the power and sympathised. He'd been the same, once.

"Hard enough that I can feel it, but not hard enough to bruise," he specified.

Alessa nodded, bit her lip, took a deep breath. Her fingers snapped, and the coin flew from the top of the block, arching through the air and falling… just short of Kurtis' feet.

"Argh!" Mortified, she looked from the coin to Kurtis, as if expecting a reprimand. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise." He picked the coin up and tossed it back to its starting point, giving it a small telekinetic push to make sure it hit its target. "Try again."

Four tries later, Alessa uttered a string of words that would have made Bryce blush and glared at the offending currency. Without any provocation whatsoever, it flew into the wall and stayed there, embedded in the plaster.

"Calm down," was Kurtis' only response, though if the coin had hit him it would have likely caused significant injury.

Dejected, she looked over at him. "D'you think I'm lying? About getting my level two?"

The thought had crossed his mind, but in light of the loss of control she'd described to Lara he'd dismissed it. "No. I think you're scared, and that's why you're losing it."

Instant bravado. "I'm not scared."

"Sure you're not."

"I'm _not_!"

"Then prove it." He withdrew another coin from his pocket, tossed it high into the air. "Throw it at me."

Just before it hit the ground, the round piece of metal changed direction, skimming up and over Kurtis' left shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her as it clinked to the floor behind him.

"I'm tired. I need a break." Her face was turned from him, her voice muffled. It didn't take a genius to work out she was crying.

_I guess I was kinda hard on her. _He gave his assent, and Alessa took a seat, her back to him. The only sounds that split the silence were her choked breaths as she tried to smother her sobs.

Kurtis was loath to push her, but there was an urgency within him that he couldn't ignore. She needed to get over this and start making progress, or things could go downhill very quickly. From the velocity of the pound coin that was still implanted in the wall, she needed to start learning level three control before she hurt someone, but it looked as though she only had a fragile grasp on level two.

He could only think of one way to help her, and he wasn't even sure how much help it would be. On top of that, it was the last thing he wanted to talk about – with anyone, let alone a kid.

The memory of Karel's sinister smile decided him. Although none of them knew what the Nephilim had planned, Kurtis was still left with a feeling that they were running out of time. He had to try.

"I used to have this problem, too."

It startled her out of her misery, and she twisted to look at him, face blotched with tears. "You never did." The accusation was uncertain.

"I skipped lessons." Kurtis moved past her to gaze out of the window. "I got tired of my father pushing me all the time, and I decided I didn't want to be Lux Veritatis any more."

"You can't just _not be_ Lux Veritatis… can you?"

"No." _Wouldn't that be nice?_ he thought to himself sardonically. "But I tried anyway. Then my power outgrew my control, like yours. I started hurting people without meaning to."

An image crept into his mind's eye, of a woman lying in a hospital bed, her face pale. He shut it out and continued, keeping his voice as neutral as he could. "Eventually I knew I had to carry on the training or someone was gonna get killed. But I was scared. Every time I tried something more advanced than level one I pulled the power back too soon. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I couldn't find the right balance."

He chanced a sideways glance across at her. She was nodding slowly, as if she identified with the description. _Good._ "Finally I realised, as long as I kept calm I could find the balance just by instinct. That's what you have to do; just stop thinking about how you might draw on too much power. When you try a throw, just take what comes to you and push it out."

"It sounds too easy." Alessa had dried her eyes, and now had all of her attention fixed on him. Uncomfortable with the raptness of her expression, he shook his head and moved away.

"It's easier said than done, but you'll get it. Try it whenever you have a free moment. That's it for now." Without waiting for her reply, he made for the door, needing to escape his role of 'mentor' for a while.

Scowling as at the chill October air hit him, he lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The nicotine did nothing to raise his spirits, and he sighed. _Damn it._

"You handled her pretty well."

Surprised, he turned to watch Lara cross the gardens toward him, his jacket under her arm. "You saw that?"

'Sheepish' was an adjective he never would have used to describe Lara, but in that moment she came pretty close. "I was curious." She handed him his jacket. "I know how you foreigners hate the cold."

He took it and shrugged it on, glad of the extra clothing. "Thanks. And, no. It could have gone better."

She didn't make any reference to what he'd told Alessa, a fact he was grateful for. "She was doing okay up until…"

"Level two," he supplied without thinking, still half lost in his own thoughts.

She frowned and took a seat on one of the low walls that sectioned off certain areas of the grounds. "How does the assessment work?"

He'd forgotten she wasn't part of the order. _Is that good or bad?_ "There're four stages. Level one is the stuff you saw her do – levitating stuff, holding it steady, moving it around. Level two's using force, throwing stuff."

"And boosting people out of the reach of mutant Cabal employees," Lara put in, smiling a little.

"Yeah, that too." The memory of that confrontation in the arena had stayed with him, for several reasons. That he had been so easily knocked out by Eckhardt's lackeys was still a sore point, for one. The life-threatening injury Boaz had inflicted on him was another. But the way Lara had given up the painting to save his life; her hands steadying him as he pulled himself to his feet; the instinctive way they had worked together, switching targets to keep each other covered – all these things went a long way to ease his wounded pride at the mistakes he had made.

He shook himself out of the recollection. "And telepathy."

Lara's head shot up, and she stared at him incredulously. "You're kidding."

"Only a small measure, and only with other members of the order. That's why I didn't mention it before – it kinda seemed pointless to bring it up when I couldn't make use of it." He watched her digest this.

After a second, she nodded. "Can Alessa do it?"

"If she's mastered level two, then yeah. I haven't tested her for it yet." _Because I couldn't handle anyone else in my head just then,_ a small voice within him added. Kurtis ignored it.

Lara was frowning, and he knew what she was about to say before the words left her lips. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

She returned his defensive look with a sceptical one of her own, but before she could push it further he headed off in the direction of the manor.

Her muttered reaction was almost inaudible, but he could just make it out. "Stubborn bastard."

It was almost enough to force a smile from him.

* * *

"And _The Matrix_ continues after tonight's news," the TV voiceover said, bland BBC accent never slipping. 

Alessa groaned. "Why do they always do this? Who cares about the news anyway?"

"I do." Lara turned her full attention to the television for the first time in over an hour. "I want to see if you're on it."

The main headlines flashed on screen. The first was something about conflict in Jerusalem, accompanied by footage of a bombed street and devastated bystanders. The second was worse than Lara had feared. "An orphanage in West Yorkshire has collapsed as the result of a fire, causing twenty-four fatalities." The accompanying images left no room for doubt: Lindfield House was now a skeletal ruin.

Alessa gasped, her face draining of colour as the next headline was announced. Lara exchanged glances with Kurtis, whose countenance was grim. In silence, the trio watched the coverage of the Israeli conflict, waiting for the report about the orphanage to begin.

After it ended, Lara clicked off the television, but continued to stare at the blank screen, her thoughts whirling. It seemed that in his rage at losing track of Alessa, Karel had burned the orphanage to the ground. The downside to this was the loss of innocent lives, of course… but there was also an upside. The report had mentioned nothing about a missing child – in all the confusion it seemed Alessa's disappearance had been overlooked. That was something to be thankful for, at least.

"Please." Lara looked over at Alessa, who was staring from her to Kurtis and back. "Tell me what's going on. I don't know anything." Her eyes pleaded with them, the anguish she felt over the deaths of her peers keeping company with the suspicion that she might have been the reason for the disaster. In the wake of this revelation, Lara supposed they had no choice.

She took a breath to begin, but Kurtis beat her to it. "Your dad ever tell you about the Nephilim?"

Lara hadn't thought it was possible for her to get any paler, but upon hearing the word Alessa became positively ashen. "Papa told me about them a few days before he…" She trailed off, a sick look washing over her features. "They're the ones who killed my parents, aren't they?"

Her knowledge surprised Lara. Kurtis had known nothing of the connection between Eckhardt and the Nephilim until Prague, though he had known the human-angel hybrids existed. Then again, Kurtis had been estranged from the order.

Lara kept quiet as he filled Alessa in on the basics of what had happened from Prague to Turkey. The girl listened without interrupting, anger and grief battling for supremacy on her face. When Kurtis finished recounting Karel's demise, Lara jumped in.

"But since then we've been having dreams with Karel in them, and Kurtis saw him at the orphanage."

"Huh? But you said you killed him."

"We did," Kurtis said. "It looks like that wasn't much of an obstacle for him."

For a few moments, silence descended on the room as everyone fell into their own thoughts. Lara tried in vain to block out the perpetual unease she had felt since the dreams began. They'd shaken her up more than she would ever admit, a fact she supposed she should be grateful for, in a way. Without them, she would never have even entertained taking on Alessa.

Alessa's voice cut through the quiet. "Why does Karel have wings?" she asked. "Papa said the wings were taken away from the angels when they were cast out."

It was a piece of information Lara hadn't come across before, but it took second place to the alarm bells that began to ring in her head. A glance across at Kurtis told her he had picked up on the same thing.

"He doesn't have wings. Not in our dreams." When Alessa had described a 'blonde man' the night before, they'd both jumped to the conclusion that she'd seen Karel. _But what if…?_

"Can you describe him?" Kurtis asked the girl. "As much as you can?"

Her forehead crinkled in thought. "He had long, blonde hair and gold eyes. And wings that looked kind of like a chain-link fence, only prettier and shinier. If he had a white robe and a harp he'd look like an angel, but he didn't. He was wearing black." She regarded them, puzzled. "What's wrong?"

Kurtis spoke the name that reverberated through Lara's consciousness, his face utterly blank. "André."

* * *

"Will you stop?" Kurtis asked edgily, as Lara geared up for another flying leap from one vaulting block to another. 

"No," was her only response.

"You're wearing yourself out." Above him, she ran, launched herself off the edge of the platform, and only just managed to grab the next with her fingertips – a jump she had been able to make easily half an hour earlier. Growling exasperation, she pulled herself up, her arm muscles trembling with exertion.

"Good," she said, as soon as she had the breath. "Then maybe I'll sleep tonight without any damned dreams."

They both knew that was unlikely to happen, but Kurtis held his tongue. Alessa's revelation had struck deep within him, but Lara seemed to have been hit by it hardest. After she'd packed their young charge off to bed – with instructions to seek her out if she dreamed or was injured – she had stalked into the gym and begun to train with single-minded intent bordering on obsession. Although he knew she was trying to take her mind off things, it didn't seem to be helping.

They had known André for only a short time, but during that time he had proven himself a true friend over and over. It was André who had resuscitated Lara when she had died at Karel's hands. Kurtis would always be grateful to the 'light Nephilim' for that. Not only that, he had sacrificed himself to ensure his darker brethren would meet their final end, cancelling out any doubts either of them may have had about him. His passing had had a significant impact on both of them, though they had never discussed it.

Two circuits of the gym later, Lara came to an abrupt halt mid-sprint, breathing hard. "Wait." She crossed the room towards him, a pensive look beginning to replace the frustration carved into her features. "Do you remember what André said to us, before he died?"

A seed of realisation began to grow in Kurtis' mind. Before he could reply, she answered her own question. "Something like, he had to die or else the Nephilim could never be truly defeated. What if…?" She paused, trying to get her thoughts in order. "What if he died too late?"

As much as Kurtis hated to admit it, she could have a point. "Go on."

"What if it took a certain amount of time for his spirit or whatever to move on, and during that time the spirits of the dead Nephilim… and Karel…" She hesitated, shook her head. "I don't even know what I mean."

Kurtis wasn't sure either, but he found the theory disturbingly plausible. "It's possible, I guess. But she might be dreaming of André for a totally different reason."

Lara shook her head. "I dreamed about him too – just before you woke me up the other night." Anticipating the aggressive question he was about to ask, she continued, "I didn't mention it because I wasn't even _thinking_ about the possibility that André could be behind any of this. I just thought it was another one of Karel's little mind-fucks." The last words held a tinge of bitterness.

Kurtis suspected she was flashing back to when Karel had used his mental powers to reveal her darkest hours to him. It was a very raw wound for her, and she had refused to talk to him about it afterwards, something which hurt a little. Still, he knew that by pushing it he would only drive a wedge between them, so he didn't press the matter. "What did he do in the dream?"

Lara brushed a few strands of hair back from her face. "He just lay there, dead. Then he got up, and he was Karel." A shadow passed over her face, and she looked up, clearly uneasy. "You don't think Karel's possessed André's body?"

"God, I hope not." A tension headache was beginning to build at Kurtis temples, and he pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against, shaking his head. "I'm going to bed. You should, too."

"In a while, maybe." She turned from him, but not before he glimpsed the anxiety in her face.

"You're afraid to sleep," he guessed, knowing it wasn't the best time to bring it up, but then, when would be?

Her fingers clenched, but she remained silent. For the first time, Kurtis began to sense how unnerved her susceptibility to the dreams had made her. "Lara."

He so rarely spoke her name that she looked around at once. The wariness on her face struck something within him, and he crossed the distance between them without thinking about it. Without a word, he slid his arms around her, knowing she would lash out if he spoke – especially if what he had to say was too close to home.

For a second he thought she would push him away, but then she acquiesced, embracing him in return with a weary sigh. The atmosphere between them had been a little awkward since she had kissed him earlier that day, but at that moment none of it seemed to matter.

_I'm sorry you had to get dragged into this – again._ It was a sentiment he knew better than to express. The last time he'd brought it up she had bitten his head off, but that wasn't the only reason he kept quiet. He had a feeling that if the situation worsened any further, it would only take a flimsy excuse to drive her away.

It was something he feared more than any Nephilim.

* * *

**Next chapter – Bryce's arrival… and we all know he's going to piss himself laughing at Lara and Kurtis' little domestic situation, don't we?**


	6. A New Perspective

**Author's Note: Shorter than usual, but I have an excuse – I'm now back at university! For the next few chapters, things should be a little lighter. Bryce just has that effect on stuff..!

* * *

**

_He was in a circular, rock-walled cavern, a water-filled crater in the floor at its centre. Raised up from the middle of this depression was a platform, reached by a flimsy wooden bridge._

_And standing in front of the pedestal at it's heart…_

_"André."__ Kurtis was surprised to learn he could control his own movements. Although he knew this space he found himself in was a dream, he was able to walk to the edge of the bridge, and speak the words that were on his mind. "What's going on?"_

_With a sad smile, the only creature born of a human saint and an angel acknowledged his presence with a nod. "Kurtis. It is good to speak with you again." His features and voice were as unremarkable as Kurtis remembered, nothing like the stunning appearance he had revealed to them before his death. "I'll make this brief. I won't be able to stay in control for long."_

_Fear passed as a dark shadow across his face, and his skin began to flicker as Karel's had done at the orphanage. Kurtis could only look on in disbelief as the Nephilic imprints and veins surfaced on the bland countenance, then receded._

_Before he could process this, André spoke, his words urgent. "You must _not_ let them get to Alessa, or to–" Again the fear intensified, and again the distinct Nephilic markings emerged. "I apologise for injuring you both, it was the only way…" He fell to his knees, gasping for breath._

_"André?"__ Kurtis ran to the fallen being's side. "What…?"_

_His words died in his throat as the blonde man looked up into his face. Where before there had been desperation, now a glaring malevolence shone from the familiar eyes. The previously furtive movements now became confident and menacing as André got to his feet._

_"Mortal…" the being hissed, an ugly smirk contorting its facial muscles.__ André's inoffensive tone was gone, replaced by one that could hardly be described as human. Kurtis could only stare in utter shock as it leapt for him, his former ally's fingers closing around his throat.

* * *

_

"That's good, but you need to aim a bit higher," Lara instructed, suppressing a yawn. She'd gotten around five hours of sleep, mercifully dream-free. Alessa's night had been just as uneventful. Over breakfast, she had timidly expressed a wish to hone her physical combat skills, which Lara had seen the sense in.

Alessa, who had taken four years of judo from the age of six up until Piers' death, grinned. "Ben – my instructor – used to say 'If all else fails, kick 'em in the nuts.'"

"In the dojo? I thought it was considered bad form." Lara motioned for her to try again, and Alessa kicked out, this time connecting with the punching bag at groin height. "Much better."

"It _is_ bad form – but he said it about self-defence." She sighed, appearing downhearted. "I used to be better than this. I got my junior blue belt."

Lara felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. As well as having trouble with her Lux Veritatis training, she was experiencing difficulty with the judo, too. It couldn't be easy for her – Lara could remember all too well how it felt to be out of practice. "It'll come back to you. You just have to keep at it."

"Yeah, that's what Kurtis said." She shot a sidelong glance toward Lara. "So, is he your boyfriend, or was that the first time you kissed?"

The question caught Lara off guard. "I'm a little old for boyfriends, don't you think?" she said as soon as she regained her equilibrium.

Alessa considered this. "Well… yeah. But is he?"

Deciding not to take offence, Lara sighed. It was typical that Alessa should ask the one question she wasn't sure of the answer to. If she said no, it was possible the teenager would mention it to Kurtis, which she was sure would cause a major argument. But if she said yes…

_Screw it._ "Yes. Kind of."

Alessa smiled. "Good. They're more likely to let you foster me if you're a couple." She paused, then winked mischievously. "And good for you. Kurtis is a hottie!"

Her mind still processing the fostering comment, it took a moment for the latter words to register with Lara. "_What!_"

Giggling, Alessa ran from the gym, leaving her alone. _Good grief. Nephilim, I can deal with, but this?_ Shaking her head, she headed for her study and the pot of coffee she knew was waiting for her there. What with Bryce arriving that day, she had a feeling she was going to need it.

She had only just reached the main hall when she heard footsteps. Kurtis appeared on the landing and made for the stairs, unaware of her presence. Watching him pull a shirt on as he moved, Lara heard Alessa's words in her mind once more. _Kurtis is a hottie!_ At that moment, she couldn't disagree.

"Morning," she called as he reached the foot of the stairs.

His eyes found hers, and immediately Lara knew there was something wrong. "We need to talk."

* * *

"'Stay in control'?" Troubled, Lara set down her coffee mug. "I don't like the sound of that." 

"Me either. But, on the bright side, whatever took over wasn't Karel." Kurtis picked up a small statue of the Egyptian god Horus. It hadn't been there the last time he'd visited, which he took as a sign that she was beginning to heal from her ordeal.

"Though that doesn't discount him from the picture," Lara pointed out. Her eyes were on the statue in his hands – perhaps she wasn't quite as comfortable with it as she could be, then.

He placed it carefully back where he'd found it. "True. I guess we can't do anything until we know more."

Lara scowled. "That's the problem. We're just sitting here, waiting for whatever's got André to bring the fight to us. We don't know what form the attack will take or how to prepare for it, or even what we're up against."

Since he'd woken up, Kurtis' mind had been mulling over the possibilities. "I think I recognised the voice," he said slowly. "The High Priest from the underground temple – the one that broke my back when I was in the Angel…"

Lara looked over at him, concern clear in her face. "Are you alright?" The memory of being paralysed, even in a temporary form, was one that still haunted him, and by some unexplainable form of intuition it seemed as though she knew it.

He shrugged it off. "Yeah." In truth he was a little shaken – he'd hoped to forget about the incident with time, but here it was, resurfacing just when he didn't need it.

He hadn't convinced her, but she let it go. "Is there anything we can do?"

Kurtis shrugged. _That's the million dollar question._ "Hide Alessa. Train Alessa. For some reason it all seems to be coming back to her, but god knows why."

Lara opened her mouth to reply, but a muffled sneeze interrupted her. "You might as well come in," she called, rolling her eyes.

Alessa entered the study, her eyes on the carpet. "Sorry," she muttered, at least having the courtesy to look embarrassed.

"Well, it's not like you were spying on anything top-secret," Lara said wryly. A look passed between them, and Kurtis got the feeling he was missing something. He decided not to worry about it for now.

"So I'm important? Is that good?"

Lara glanced across at him before replying. "It's… difficult." There really was no tactful way to say it. She gave up. "It means a lot of people will be trying to kidnap you."

To her credit, Alessa controlled her fear well. "So what do I do?"

"Keep training," Kurtis told her. "Get as powerful as you can."

"But don't worry too much," Lara put in. "This is our problem, and we're responsible for you. And we're pretty good at… defending ourselves."

If Alessa heard the unspoken phrase '_killing people'_, she didn't show it. She nodded. "Okay. Then… Kurtis, can we do some more training? If I can at least knock people back…"

_Poor kid._ He dismissed the stray thought and nodded. "Sure."

* * *

"Lara?" As if from a long distance, she heard someone calling her name. "Lara!" 

She opened her eyes, and groaned. _Fell asleep on my bloody desk._

"About time!" She sat up and glared at Bryce, who was grinning insanely. "Up all night, were you?"

_Trust Bryce_. "Do you ever think of anything besides computers and sex?" she asked, standing up and working out a cramp in her shoulder.

"Course I do!" he said indignantly, the Cockney in his accent intensifying, if that was possible.

Lara couldn't help but smile. "Name one thing." She motioned him to follow her out to the main hall, her mind already mulling over where she could accommodate her new houseguest.

"Star Wars," Bryce said, with relish.

"Sorry I asked. Where are Kurtis and Alessa?"

Bryce frowned. "I dunno, I just let myself in. Kurtis and _who?_"

Lara sighed. "It's a long story. Let's get your stuff moved in and I'll explain."

They only got as far as the front door before Alessa hailed them. "Hey, Lara, I hit Kurtis with a quid!" She halted as her eyes fell on Bryce. "Oh…"

"Only because you were trying to hit the wall," Kurtis muttered, rubbing a red mark on his neck. He noticed their guest and nodded a welcome. "Bryce."

Lara steeled herself for what she knew was coming. Bryce's eyes moved from Alessa, to Kurtis, to Lara, and back. For a few seconds he seemed unable to process what he was seeing, but then he began to shake with suppressed mirth, choking back laughter.

"Just get it over with," Lara said wearily.

With unadulterated glee, Bryce chortled, "This is _priceless_! You… and she…" Unable to express himself in a coherent manner, he gave up and proceeded to laugh himself into a state of intense pain.

Lara and Kurtis exchanged glances. She could read his meaning clearly: _Do you want to hit him, or shall I?_ She rolled her eyes in response and waited for Bryce to get himself under control.

Wiping tears from his eyes, he cleared his throat to compose himself. "Right. I'm calm." It wasn't strictly true, but Lara knew she'd have to endure his sniggering for a while yet.

"Bryce, this is Alessa. She's Lux Veritatis. Alessa, this is Bryce. He'll be taking care of security. You'll be relieved to hear his insanity isn't contagious."

Bryce waved. "Hiya. You okay? They're not scaring you, are they?"

Alessa giggled. "Not really. Not as much as yesterday, anyway."

At the comment, it looked as though Bryce would crack up again, but he kept calm with an effort. "That's good. Fancy giving me a hand with these boxes?"

Shifting the equipment from his van to the house took twenty minutes, even with all four of them pitching in. Lara couldn't even put a name to most of the stuff, much less guess what it was used for. While Bryce crawled under desks and leaned around the back of monitors, dragging metres of cable behind him, the others filled him in on the events thus far.

"Promise me you won't do that same thing you did in Cappadocia," Bryce said, as all around him machinery began to beep and whirr.

"What? Let you buy an 'I've Been To Turkey' fridge magnet?" _I am _not_ in the mood to get into this._

Behind her, she heard receding footsteps, and knew Kurtis had left the room. She supposed he didn't want to get into it either – not that she blamed him. Alessa looked from her to Bryce, her curiosity obvious.

Bryce sensed that some things wouldn't be good to bring up in front of the child, and resumed his pottering. "Yeah. That."

"Alessa, can you go and ask Winston what he did with those sheets?" With a disappointed groan, Alessa left the room, and Lara glared at Bryce. "I'll do whatever I have to."

Bryce sighed. "I was afraid you were going to say that." He hesitated before continuing. "You look like you've gone above and beyond already. Have you thought about taking sleeping pills, or…?"

"And sleeping like a baby while Karel breaks in and kills us all?" Lara snorted. "Please, Bryce. You should know better by now."

"Just trying to help," he muttered, grabbing an extension cable and getting back to work.

"Well, don't." As soon as the abrupt words had left her lips, she knew she had been too harsh. This far from ideal situation she'd somehow ended up in was beginning to wear her down.

_How much worse is this going to get?

* * *

_

**Please review if you've gotten this far… Below is a bit of replying-to-questions-I've-had-so-far – I've chucked it at the end so it doesn't get in the way of anything. I feel a bit egotistical doing this, but I think it needs to be done. XD

* * *

**

For starters, **everyone**: Thanks so much for all your support. It means a lot. I'm only replying to the people who have asked me questions that haven't been answered by the chapters yet, but I appreciate you all giving me feedback. :hugs everyone:

**Ellethiel**: I really do think Kurtis loves Lara. I don't think they admit it much, because it's not their way, but they know, so it's okay. At least, that's my take on it!

**SilverSpoons** Hmm, tricky question to answer, actually. I'm not sure how well it comes across in this chapter – André is a good guy, but he kind of doesn't have much control over his actions at the moment. Oh, and as for the woman Kurtis thinks about (the one in the hospital bed)… I can't tell you yet, but it will become clearer. I'm thinking of flashing back.

**SirenWithin**: I'm sorry, I didn't have enough story written to put two chapters up at once! I figured it'd be better to update sooner than to wait ages for something twice as long…

**Hikari****-Remix**: Mwa ha ha! I know, I was trying to find something that even Bryce's gaming skills would have trouble coping with… I'm sure he wasn't driven too insane by that battle. Maybe. XD

**AKKON**: Well, I think the main reason Karel is back is that Jordy (Jordana Trent) lives about an hour away from me and knows exactly where I live. And the other reason is that Karel is such a cool villain anyway. I want to do something with him that no one else has done though, and I think I have an idea…

**NFI**: Yeah, Kurtis was a DeCombel. It seemed the best of the names that were on the statues in the Vault of Trophies, but I like Trent so much better.


	7. Telepathy

**Author's Note:** And I'm back! Sorry for the colossal delay in updates… I've been so busy with work and coursework and moving back home for the Christmas holidays… This is still a bit short, but I was feeling guilty. Thank you for your feedback, everyone. Enjoy the blatant fanservice… I mean, story!

* * *

Lara wandered aimlessly, thankful for the space the huge mansion gave her. The comparatively tiny hotel rooms in Turkey had driven her insane – she and Kurtis had had to stay indoors for days at a time, hiding from Karel and his agents. Now they were in danger again, but there was one favourable difference – she was on her own turf.

She approached Bryce's room, with half a mind to ask him if he'd upgraded the security yet, but a groan from within pulled her up short.

"Nah… you were supposed to jump over it. Good job we saved it, eh?"

Alessa's reply was determined. "Right. This time I'm going to kick his butt!"

Bryce chuckled. "That's the spirit… Left! No! The other left!"

Lara left them to it, smiling slightly. Alessa seemed to have taken a shine to Bryce, and had been glued to his side for the past hour. It was a relief not to have to worry about her whereabouts, at least.

She continued on, down two corridors and through the main hall until she came to the steps of the wine cellar – which technically wasn't a wine cellar any more. Lara had had it renovated, installing a huge aquarium and comfortable furniture. It was the one room that had a calming effect on her. God knew she needed that now.

She reached the foot of the stairs and rounded the corner, and halted in surprise. It seemed Kurtis had beaten her to it – he was pacing the room, his eyes looking through his surroundings. Lara wondered what was going through his mind.

"M'sieur DeCombel," she said after a few seconds, alerting him to her presence.

He glanced over, his face flashing startled for a second before settling into annoyance. "Don't call me that."

Lara bit back a smile, amused by his chagrin. "Why not? It's your name, isn't it?" she asked, taking a seat on a nearby chaise longue.

"Not any more. I changed it legally." He began to resume his pacing, but thought better of it, instead taking a seat opposite her.

"Why Trent?"

He shrugged. "Why not?" Off her look, he relented. "It was my mother's maiden name."

It was rare for him to talk about himself. Lara seized the opportunity. "Were you close?"

Kurtis hesitated, then nodded. "Closer than I was to my father. Don't get me wrong, I'm no mama's boy, but…" He glanced up at her, a ghost of a smile in his expression. Lara couldn't help but return it. The moment of closeness between them was over as quickly as it had begun when he shook his head. "What's going on up there?"

"Alessa's being mentored in the ways of the computer geek, from what I can hear."

He grinned. "It'll do her good to be around someone who knows how to handle kids."

"Agreed. And it does us good to have a break from her." Lara stared out at the shoals of brightly coloured fish that wove their way through their watery habitat.

"You've got that right." A comfortable silence descended. Kurtis' gaze fell on her, and even though her eyes were averted Lara sensed it. She pretended to be unaware of his perusal, keeping her focus on the fish.

"Did Bryce get his promise out of you?" His voice was noncommittal.

She hesitated, weighing up the pros and cons of a lie. "No."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Damn it, Lara…"

A thousand retorts rushed to her lips, but she bit them back with an effort. Anything she said would result in a flaming row, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Gentle fingers brushed her cheek, and she turned startled eyes toward Kurtis. He fixed her with a searching gaze. She met it as levelly as she could, ignoring the both her guilt and the adrenaline spike the attention gave her.

"Are you going to make me say it?"

She could – but she didn't need to. _I'm worried about you; I'm scared for your safety; I can't lose you again._ _I love you._ All taboo phrases in their private universe, except in extreme situations. Without speaking, she shook her head.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a slight smile. "Good."

She could feel her facial muscles shift in an answering smile, which she tried in vain to suppress. Fresh amusement sparked in his eyes; he leaned forward and closed the gap between them, his lips lingering against hers for long moments. Welcoming the contact, Lara returned the embrace without hesitation, pressing closer and deepening the kiss. Electric shivers chased over her skin as he skimmed his fingers down her arms and back up again, and under the hem of her shirt. His hands slid teasingly up her stomach, never quite high enough.

For a fleeting second, Lara's thoughts turned to Alessa's whereabouts, but in the next instant she decided she didn't care. She tried to concentrate on nothing but the sensations evoked by Kurtis' close proximity, something she'd deprived herself of for so long. His languid caresses at last wandered to her breasts, and she arched into his touch, biting back a gasp. Maybe now wasn't the time or the place, but who knew when an opportunity like this would present itself again? She let her hands wander over toned muscle, smooth in some places, scarred in others. She knew every blemish intimately – the past month had dulled her memories, but as she explored his skin they flared back to vivid life.

She had almost succeeded in pushing her concerns to the back of her mind when a muffled thump registered on the periphery of her senses. On unwilling alert, she pulled back from Kurtis' arms just enough to send a wary look upward – as if that would help. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

For a few more seconds, Lara listened, hoping to hear the sound repeated, but all she heard was a distant peal of girlish laughter. _Bloody kid._ Dismissing her concerns, she shook her head. "Sorry. Alessa."

With a good-natured roll of his eyes, Kurtis pulled her into another kiss. Almost immediately, another thud sounded above them. This time it was Kurtis who broke away, frowning up at the ceiling. "Isn't she with Bryce?"

The reminder of their responsibility was enough to dampen their playful mood. Not without a pang of reluctance, they shared a last, brief embrace before heading upstairs.

* * *

As it turned out, Alessa had been trying to telekinetically retrieve books from her room, egged on by Bryce. When Kurtis emerged from the cellar, closely followed by Lara, she was sitting on the stairs, pale-faced and shaking.

"I think I did too much," she said, as soon as she saw him. "I keep dropping them."

Bryce stood up from his crouch beside her, face creased into a frown. "I kept telling her to stop, but…"

Kurtis shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing permanent." Taking in her condition, he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. Testing for telepathy was something easiest done when the subject was exhausted. To tire her out again later would be pointless.

"Could you leave us alone for a while?" he asked Lara and Bryce. "There's something I want to try."

Lara hesitated, then nodded. "Bryce, shouldn't you be upgrading the security?"

"It's done," he replied smugly. "If a fly lands on the front gate, I'll know about it."

"Show me, then." She shepherded him off, with a last glance over her shoulder.

Alessa watched them go, then turned apologetic eyes to Kurtis. "Sorry."

Kurtis leaned against the banister, shaking his head. "Just don't do it again. How're you feeling?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Stupid. I was showing off for Bryce. Then I started to get dizzy…" Her eyes brightened a little. "But I managed to throw one of the books at him!"

A strange feeling washed over Kurtis. It took him a few moments to realise he was proud of her. "Well done."

It was the first time he'd praised her, and she swore she'd tire herself out every day if that was what it took to make him happy. "What was it you wanted to do? I don't know if I can, but I'll try."

"I'm going to test your telepathy. That okay?" She knew why he asked. Papa had told her about Order members who had entered their brethren's minds without permission, learning information they had no right to and using it for blackmail purposes. It had been the first time she'd realised that, although the Lux Veritatis stood for all that was good and right in the world, not everyone in it respected all of the rules.

She nodded her assent, quickly pushing certain things behind the mental wall her father had taught her to construct. She only hoped it held. "Okay, ready."

For a second, there was nothing, but then she felt Kurtis' presence at the back of her mind. _Sort of like having a second conscience_, she mused.

Hear me?

It struck her as funny that he was standing right next to her, asking if she could hear him. Yep. She sent her reply down the connection between them, pushing it with the tiniest spark of her power – not that there was much left.

With him in her mind, it was easier to get a sense of who he was. Without intruding on any of his private thoughts it was hard to put her finger on, but it seemed like he wasn't as cold and unfeeling as she'd presumed. Weird.

What is? He sent an odd glance her way, and mortification jolted through her veins. Without thinking, she'd transmitted the thought to him. _Won't do that again!_

She quickly shook her head. Nothing.

Okay. She sensed his amusement. That was even weirder. He'd never seemed to have much of a sense of humour, at least not around her. Can you send me an image?

For a second, Alessa floundered. She wasn't sure she had it in her, even if she could remember how. Frantic, she scrabbled for the knowledge she knew was there, but came up with nothing. She gritted her teeth, humiliated, knowing he could feel her embarrassment down their telepathic link.

Finally, something began to come to her. Suspicious, she looked up at Kurtis – had he located the memory she'd misplaced and nudged it towards her? She wouldn't put it past him. But he was gazing out towards the front door, expression and connection totally nonchalant.

Concentrating, she began to form a mental imprint of her line of vision – her feet, the tiles at the foot of the stairs, one of her books that lay nearby. She reached out with her power to cement it, but came up with nothing. "Damn it!" she yelled aloud, close to tears.

About to tell Kurtis that she'd run out, she stopped short. A warm trickle seeped into her brain – fresh energy. There was only one place it could have come from. Thanks, she told Kurtis, managing to keep most of the surprise out of her mind-voice.

Now try, was his only response.

Nodding, she built up the image again, focusing on as many tiny details as she could, then smoothing Kurtis' power over it. Finished, she sent it down their connection to him. There.

Okay. She couldn't tell whether he was pleased or disappointed. Before she had a chance to ask, he broke off the contact, leaving her momentarily disorientated.

"How're you feeling?" Kurtis asked.

Alessa looked up. "Better."

It was as he'd hoped – the temporary loan of his power had boosted her energy. Some of the colour had returned to her cheeks, and she was no longer trembling. "Feel up to one more thing?"

She thought about it. "I think so."

"Try and connect with me." At the instruction, she stilled for a moment. It was the last thing novices learned before their level two examination.

"O-okay." Even without a mental link, he could sense her nerves. Once, when ordered to connect with his father, he'd given him an excruciating migraine that had lasted days. He wondered if Alessa had had any similar experiences.

He waited. After a brief hesitation, he felt her clumsy appearance in his mind – the mental equivalent of pushing on a door that needed to be pulled before getting it right. Did I do it?

Yeah. Try to give me my power back?

The connection skittered as she gathered it, separating it from the seeds of her own. Then it began to flow back towards him, drawn to the energy that remained within him. Once it was all accounted for, he nodded. Right. Break off.

She shifted, about to break away, but suddenly her concentration wavered. Following her thought process, he met an image – one of the last he'd ever wanted her to see. It had pulled free of his mental wall when his power had returned to him, and was now staring both of them in the face.

The image of a woman lying in a hospital bed, bruises marring her pale skin, tubes connecting her to life-saving medical equipment. Kurtis' mother, Marie.

Pain and guilt surged through him, and abruptly he wrenched free of his connection to Alessa. Before she could move or speak, he strode from the room, leaving her astonished and confused.

* * *

**Merry Christmas and a happy New Year, everyone! See you in 2006!**


	8. Memories

**Author's Note**: Back again! Bit of a pointless chapter, but I'm working up to an attack on Croft Manor, so bear with me. XD

* * *

Kurtis hated her. And so did Lara. They both hated her; she was nothing but a disappointment to them. All she did was get in the way. They didn't want her there – they never had! 

Alessa knew there wasn't much to be gained from crying, but no matter how she tried to stop, the tears continued to fall. After the myriad foster homes she'd been shunted around, she'd thought this would be her last. She was happy here. Kurtis was Lux Veritatis, and had helped her regain confidence in her abilities. Lara was helping her with her judo, and had bought her so much cool stuff. She was with people who understood her background and could protect her – so what if they were a bit awkward about it?

But this afternoon had changed everything. She'd done something her father had told her was 'despicable', which she supposed meant bad. She'd burrowed into Kurtis' private thoughts and found that memory of his mother. She didn't know how she'd done it, or even how she knew who the woman was, but Kurtis wasn't going to believe that. He must be so angry with her.

She wondered how many hours she had left here, before they came to gather her stuff and cart her off to a new orphanage. The thought brought a fresh onslaught of tears, and she sobbed helplessly into her pillow.

"Alessa? What's wrong?" She looked up, her blurry eyes taking a few seconds to focus on Winston's concerned face.

Gulping back the lump in her throat, she scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. "Nothing."

The old man settled on the edge of her bed. She had barely seen him since her arrival – he seemed to prefer his own company – but his presence calmed her a little. "It doesn't look like nothing to me."

For a few seconds, Alessa stared at the bedspread, trying to manage her thoughts into coherent sentences. When she did speak, however, everything tumbled out in a rush. Winston listened without interrupting as she told him everything, with the exception of details about the memory she had fallen across. Bad enough that she'd seen it, without telling anyone else.

When she'd finished, Winston squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry about being abandoned. I've known Lara since she was smaller than you are, and I know one thing for sure – she wouldn't leave you in danger. You're safest where she and Mr. Trent are, so that's where they'll keep you."

"But… Kurtis will hate me now," she protested, hating how feeble her voice sounded.

"You leave that to me, hmmm?"

She wasn't sure what an elderly butler could do to calm down a gun-wielding, telekinetic American, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings by saying so. "Okay."

* * *

It was the second time in as many days that Kurtis was freezing his ass off, chain-smoking by the fountain. Stubbing out his third cigarette, he stared into the water, doing his best to think of nothing. A quiet voice behind him asked, "Want to talk about it?" 

_No. Wait, how the hell…?_ "Talk about what?" he asked without looking around, keeping his voice indifferent.

Footsteps crunched over gravel – he wondered how he'd not heard her approach – and Lara crossed into his line of vision, taking a seat beside him. "Winston told me what happened with Alessa."

That made even less sense. "How the hell would Winston know?"

"Apparently, he found her crying in her room." Guilt stabbed at him. He knew he'd handled it badly, and the knowledge was just making him feel worse. He reached for a fourth cigarette, but before he could extract one from the package, nimble fingers snatched the entire thing away. Anger flared, and he opened his mouth to snap at her, but her firm tone cut through the protest. "You can have them back when you've calmed down."

"Fuck you," he muttered, out of habit. Ordinarily, he'd have laid into her – what right did she have to control what he did, after all? – but he couldn't be bothered. "And no, I don't wanna talk about it."

She ignored both his curse and his dismissive demeanour. "What did she see?"

Kurtis scowled. If he knew Lara, she wouldn't back off until she got some kind of answer from him. "My mom. I hurt her, back when I was like Alessa. Satisfied?"

Lara was silent. Anyone else would have been falling over themselves apologising, but she knew he'd have no patience for it. For a while, the only sound was the hoot of an owl in the distance.

Without knowing exactly what he was about to say, Kurtis began to speak. Giving voice to the memory had unearthed it in its painful entirety, and he couldn't force it away no matter how much he tried. His face expressionless, he told Lara everything.

* * *

"_Get back here, young man! I'm not finished with you!"_

_Fourteen-year-old Kurtis sighed, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the floor. "Aww, ma…"_

"_Don't call me 'ma'," Marie snapped. "Are you even listening to what I'm telling you?"_

"_Yeah._ _I'm gonna end up like 'that poor Occitan girl' if I don't start training again," Kurtis echoed her earlier words, not bothering to curb his sarcasm. His mother's face darkened, so before she could explode he ploughed on. "Gimme a break! Helene only lit herself on fire because she didn't have any training at all! I've got my level two, so I'll be fine!"_

_Marie rubbed a tired hand over her eyes. The adult Kurtis, looking back, could see she was pale and exhausted with worry for his safety, but his child self didn't possess the same insight. "No, you won't, Kurtis. The power grows as you do, and you have to refine your control or it'll get away from you. You could kill someone!"_

"_Yeah, right!_ _I'm not _that _stupid!" His eyes fell on his brother, playing baseball in the garden with their friends. "Why don't you pick on Lyle, for a change? He only trains once a week, _and _he's only level one!"_

"_He's three years younger than you are, and you should have your level three by now! Your father's worried sick!" As Kurtis growled with wordless frustration and stalked towards the door, Marie followed, grabbing his arm and spinning him to face her. "Don't you _dare _walk out that door! You're grounded for a month!"_

_Disbelieving rage filled Kurtis' mind, sending adrenaline rushing through his veins until his limbs trembled with it. Angry words died on his lips as a blinding pain seared through his head. His eyes clouded with dancing spots of light, and his ears hummed, but through the buzzing he heard a distant crash._

_Ten seconds later, his vision clearing, he struggled to his feet to stare at the scene of destruction he had unwittingly created. His mother lay crumpled against the kitchen cabinets, broken crockery all around her. She didn't move or speak, and there was blood… so much blood… Was she dead?_

_Terror seized him. If she was, it was all his fault. He was a murderer, and she'd only been trying to warn him.

* * *

_

Lara listened without interrupting, until he'd purged himself of everything he'd kept locked away for so long. Throughout his tale, he'd kept himself completely detached, relaying the events with as much emotion as if he were detailing a train journey, but she could see beyond the mask. It was obviously something he'd punished himself a great deal for since it had happened.

They'd been down this road before – or one that looked very similar. Karel had exploited her mind with his Nephilic powers, revealing her most painful memory to Kurtis. Later, without prompting, he'd recounted the circumstances of his father's and brother's murders, exposing a part of his past as Karel had ripped open hers. She'd known what it had cost him, and been grateful for it.

Now she would return the favour. It wasn't that she wanted to, or even that she felt obligated to – only that it seemed right.

"I know it's hard." She hesitated, gathering her thoughts, before shaking her head. _What the hell._ "But… moments like that change the entire course of your life. If it hadn't happened, maybe nothing would have brought you to your senses and you'd have ended up like your friend."

Kurtis gave her a sceptical look. She knew she was skirting the issue. "When I was in Cambodia with Werner, and had to leave him for dead… I kept thinking that maybe if I'd listened harder to what he was telling me, or prepared myself more beforehand, I would have been able to help him. But I couldn't, and that was what made me want to improve."

She smiled a little, remembering the expression on her mother's face when she'd caught her running laps of the expansive gardens behind their home, wearing 'most unladylike' clothing. "My parents were horrified. They sent me to the best finishing school money could buy, in Switzerland, hoping it'd put me back on track, but after riding lessons I'd always take my time grooming my horse. Once all the other girl had gone inside, I'd spar with one of the stable-boys."

She chose not to mention that she'd done quite a bit more than spar with him, or that half the thrill of their relationshiphad beenthe consequences if any of the teachers or students discovered them and told her parents. It had never happened, but Lara had half-wished it would.

Kurtis shot a half-amused sideways glance at her, and she knew her lying by omission hadn't fooled him. She shrugged and grinned, then continued on with her story. "Once I graduated – just – I told my parents I was going to Rome for a few weeks. I went skiing in the Himalayas instead."

For a few seconds, she fell silent as memories assaulted her consciousness – the bloodied bodies of her fellow passengers, slumped in their seats; the bone-chilling cold and numbing exhaustion as she stumbled through the snow; her desperation as her food supplies steadily dwindled and then ran out altogether. She blinked to clear her head, and began to speak again.

"On the way home, the plane crashed in the mountains. I was the only survivor. I had to get myself to safety, and if it hadn't been for the way I'd trained, I probably would have died."

Her tale concluded, she glanced over at him to gauge his reaction. Their eyes met, and he nodded slightly in recognition of her gesture. It was as much thanks as she expected. _At least he seems a bit calmer._ Reminded of her earlier statement, she handed over his cigarettes.

With only the barest glance at them, Kurtis tucked them back into his jacket pocket. Surprised, she raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps one day I'll get you to quit."

"Don't get cute," he told her dryly, getting to his feet.

They walked in companionable silence back towards the manor. Stepping into the building's warmth, Kurtis pushed away the errant thought that crossed his mind. _Maybe she will.

* * *

_

He found Alessa in the dining room, telekinetically throwing an apple across the room and bringing it up short before it hit the wall. He waited until the girl was between throws to speak. "You're getting better."

Alessa looked around, her expression guarded. "Thanks." She paused, searching for words. "Kurtis…"

He saw the apology begin to form on her lips and held up a hand to stop it. "I'm sorry, too."

She blinked in surprise. "_You_ are? What for?"

_God, I hate having to do this._ He decided to bite the bullet and get it over with. "For leaving like that. It wasn't your fault."

Her forehead crinkled in incomprehension. He saw the apprehension in her face, as if she felt compelled to say words that might condemn her. "But, I–"

Kurtis shrugged, cutting her off. Letting her wallow in her own guilt would do her no good. "I think my control needs some work."

Alessa smiled a little at that. "Me, too."


	9. Exhaustion

**A/N**: Really sorry about the delay between updates, guys. I've had so much coursework to do it's been untrue. Back now, though! Thank you for all the support, it means so much to me… Hope you all like the uppie!

* * *

The next two weeks passed relatively without incident, prompting Bryce to ask at least once a day what the point of his constant surveillance was. Since André had apologised to Kurtis in his dreams for hurting him, neither he nor Alessa had sustained any more injury – in fact, the dreams had ceased altogether. Their lives fell into a familiar routine: honing Alessa's mental and physical skills, keeping themselves in shape, and staying alert at all times. 

For the first week, things had been just about bearable, but instead of letting herself relax as the uneventful days drew on, Lara took the opposite approach. Each day without an attack increased the probability that there would be one the next, and working to this theory was utterly exhausting her. Although reassured by the fact that Karel no longer haunted her dreams, she now lost sleep for a different reason: she was listening for the sound of enemy footfalls.

The lack of rest was making her irritable; her aim during target practice faltered, worsening her foul mood. Alessa and Bryce stayed out of her way whenever possible, and Kurtis was growing evermore frustrated with her.

On October the twenty-second, almost three weeks since Alessa had come to live with them, the tension between them hit breaking point.

"It's three o'clock in the morning, Lara."

She glared at Kurtis over the top of her laptop, only making the barest attempt at quashing the instinct to argue. "Didn't we do this last night?"

"And the night before that. What's so important that it can't wait till morning?"

Disliking the fact that she had to look up at him, Lara rose from the bed, setting the computer aside. "Why does it matter? Did you come here thinking I was asleep, to watch over me while my defences were down and reassure yourself that you're still the dominant male?"

That irked him. Over the past few days she'd marvelled at his ability to control his temper, impressed and at the same time a little disappointed. Now, watching his eyes narrow and his posture shift to defensive, she felt a jolt of anticipation. _Game on._

"Quite the ego you have there. Now _quit dodging the question_. Why won't you sleep? You've said yourself the dreams have stopped."

Lara shook her head, trying to hide her confusion. _How can he not know?_ "What's Karel doing right now, this second? I doubt it's sleeping, somehow. Do Nephilim even sleep?" Without waiting for an answer, she crossed to the window and stared out. "Any second now, a squad of his worshippers could burst through the door with semiautomatics. I'd rather not be asleep when that happens, if that's perfectly alright with you."

Kurtis' sigh was pure exasperation. "Bryce says his security will let him know if a flea comes within a hundred yards – and that's of the perimeter walls."

Lara could feel her irritation growing, temporarily banishing the numbing exhaustion of the past couple of weeks. _I can't believe I'm actually glad to be arguing._ She resisted the urge to fix Kurtis with her most antagonistic stare… just. "He could sleep through it."

"Have a little faith for once! Damn it, Lara, you won't be able to shoot straight when Karel's guys _do_ get here!"

At his words, Lara's fragile hold on her self-control snapped. "How _dare_ you question my abilities? I miss a couple of shots, and all of a sudden I'm a complete basket case, is that it?"

Kurtis faced her down squarely. "A couple of shots is all it takes for them to hit you, and you damn well know it."

For a few charged seconds, they stared at one another in a silent battle of wills. Lara's fatigue returned unbidden, and she broke eye contact first, turning her back on him. _I hate it when he's right._ A couple of weeks ago – a few days ago, even – she'd have been full of sarcastic retorts and biting witticism. Now it was all she could do to stand upright.

Behind her, Kurtis could feel his anger draining away, uncertainty taking its place. This was a side of Lara he'd never seen. They'd been through hell together, but she'd never become dispirited. Even when she'd made the decision to sacrifice her own life, so Kurtis could escape with the relics they'd needed to keep out of Karel's hands, she had kept up a defiant outward appearance. Her first few remarks tonight had been up to her usual standard, but now…

Lara pushed a frustrated hand through her hair, torn between the logical course of action and her screaming instincts. She knew she desperately needed to sleep – she'd been getting under three hours a day, and most of that involuntarily – but every time she closed her eyes, images of Karel standing over Alessa's bed pressed themselves into her mind. She hated to admit it, but she was afraid. Her own life was one thing, but the death of a child in her care was a different story, especially when it could lead to a world controlled by Karel.

She'd be damned if she'd ever admit it to Kurtis, though. "Just leave me alone, okay? Just… go." Gathering the last of her strength, she gave him a final glare and prayed he'd take the hint.

For a few seconds he only looked at her, completely impassive. Then, with a slight nod, he headed for the door. Reaching it, he stopped, but didn't turn. "Get some sleep. As much as you need. I'll stay awake and keep watch."

She almost snapped at him that she didn't need a babysitter, but common sense prevailed. Just before he disappeared out of sight, she murmured, "Thanks. I owe you one."

He glanced back, a half-smile playing about his lips. "I'll be collecting on it later." Before her sleep-fogged brain could even begin to contemplate what he meant by that, he was gone.

* * *

"Did Lara go out early this morning?" Alessa asked, telekinetically throwing a knife into the centre of her target without even appearing to try. "I haven't seen her at all today. Or heard her yelling or shooting things." 

Kurtis noted the girl's improved mental control before answering. "She's still asleep, hopefully."

Her forehead crinkled in confusion. "But it's six o' clock."

Bryce, idly leaning against one of the assault course structures, grinned. "What he doesn't want to say is that he tired her out last night and it's taken her all day to recover."

"You're such a perv, Bryce!" Alessa accused, trying hard not to giggle. She turned her attention to Kurtis, who just rolled his eyes. "Is that true, though?"

From above, a voice called, "Bryce, she's thirteen, for god's sake. And _no_, it's not true." Surprised, they all looked up to see Lara standing on her balcony, her hair tousled, still dressed in the pyjama pants and tank top she had slept in.

"How long have you been spying?" Bryce yelled back.

Lara shook her head good-naturedly. "You woke me up."

"Argh! Sorry!" Alessa winced, waiting for the dressing down she would have gotten twenty-four hours ago. Kurtis was relieved to see it didn't materialise, which could only mean Lara had caught up on her sleep. One less thing to worry about – at least for now.

"It's alright. I think I overslept." She glanced over at Kurtis, smiling a little, before turning to Bryce. "Anything?"

Bryce took some kind of gadget out of his pocket and held it up as proof. "Nothing at all."

Lara nodded and disappeared, presumably to make herself more presentable. Kurtis turned back to Alessa. "There's something I want to try."

Something in his voice told Alessa this would be important. She'd been impatient to finish the routine exercises so she could go and play Tekken with Bryce, but this seemed like it'd be more interesting. "What is it?"

Kurtis unhooked his Chirugai from his belt and handed it to her. She'd been fascinated by it since she'd first noticed he carried it – there were only six of them in existence, her father had once told her – and she took it with care, slipping her fingers into their required positions. It was a little big for her child-sized fingers to hold comfortably, but she wasn't going to let that stop her. "Dad wouldn't let me touch his," she said, trying not to look too nervous. "He said I was too young and I might take his hand off."

"You were too young, then. I'd give it more time, but if you can do it now… that'd be good." She looked up into his serious face and nodded, determined. If she could help somehow when the time came to fight this Karel guy, she'd try anything.

"No pressure, eh?" Bryce said. He pushed himself off the wall and shook his head. "Knives I can deal with, but if that thing's going to be flying around I think I'm going inside. Good luck, kiddo." He made for the kitchen door, leaving Kurtis and Alessa to it.

"How do I get the blades to come out?" The second she had asked the question, she wished she hadn't. The thought of a razor-sharp piece of metal shooting out and taking her finger off made her feel queasy.

She listened to Kurtis' instructions, reaching her mind out to the coils of wire embedded in the light disc, impervious to anything but the most controlled of mental touches. For a few seconds, she hovered around the metal centre, prodding at it with her powers, but nothing happened. She felt Kurtis join her, guiding her. You're just poking at it. His mental voice sounded amused. Make yourself into a hand and squeeze.

Alessa ignored her steadily increasing headache and ordered her mind into submission. At first, nothing happened, but then her power split into four ghost-like fingers and a thumb. They shook with her efforts, but they were definitely there. She bore down on them, and they began to tighten, curving into a fist. Just when Alessa thought she couldn't keep it up any longer, the blades of the Chirugai snapped out. She cried out and dropped it on the ground, fearful of being wounded. "Whoa!"

Kurtis chuckled. "Try not to drop it next time."

Alessa retrieved it carefully from the floor, examining the shining blades. "It just made me jump. Dad's wasn't this sharp."

"Your dad had a Chirugai? What happened to it?" His eyes bored into her, as if it were important.

"I don't know," she said softly, trying to block out the memories of the Chirugai, lying in her father's bloody grip. "It was there when I…" She couldn't quite bring herself to say the rest, but Kurtis seemed to get it. "He didn't take it because he couldn't use it, is that right? This Karel?"

"That makes the most sense," Kurtis answered, his mind wandering. He knew how woefully ineffective any kind of physical weapon was against Karel. If Alessa could master his Chirugai, though, it might be worth seeking out her father's, if only for distraction purposes. Until then, there was no point.

When he looked back over at the girl, she was scuffing a pattern in the dirt with her toe, her face distracted. Three concentric circles, the middle one filled in. Staring down at it, Kurtis felt something tug at a forgotten corner of his subconscious. "Alessa? What're you drawing?"

She looked up, sheepish. "Sorry. I'm not paying much attention, am I?"

Behind him, footsteps approached. They both turned to see Lara approach, a pistol in one hand and a magazine of ammunition in the other. Noticing Kurtis' expression, she asked, "What?"

He gestured to Alessa's doodle. "Does that mean anything to you? I can't place it, but there's something familiar about it."

"I just… felt like drawing it," Alessa chipped in.

Lara crouched down for a closer look, and suddenly everything fell into place. Her mind flashed back to her dreams of Karel, of the spherical object that she'd been unable to focus on. She saw it now; saw it clearly. "It's the Iris."

* * *

A few minutes later, everyone was gathered in a small room near her study, staring at a constantly moving geosphere, its two split outer layers of brown crust and grey mantle revolving around the exposed orange core. Alessa seemed hypnotised. "How does it do that?" 

"I'm not sure," Lara replied, without taking her eyes from it. "There's so much I don't know about it. We found it in Cambodia on my first expedition, but it's not alluded to in any of the myths or legends I've ever heard of. I never thought of cross-referencing with the Nephilim or Lux Veritatis, though."

"If it's any consolation, I've never heard of it either." Kurtis reached out and stopped the movement of the crust with his finger. The mantle also halted. He dropped his hand, and both layers began their movement again.

"What's it for?" Alessa wondered.

"There was some technology… in Werner's building at VCI. Somehow, when the Iris was placed in it, I was transported to a completely different part of the building, strange as it sounds." Lara shook her head, frustrated. "How would that help us, or Karel?"

Before anyone could put forward a theory, Bryce rushed into the room, his tiny surveillance monitor clutched in one hand. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got big trouble."


	10. The Golden Lion

**Author's Note:** Hi again, everyone! Sorry about the delay in updating, I had deadlines. And then writer's block. Finally got this done, though. Apologies to Akkon – I know I promised you I'd write shaggage, but this just got so long… Next chapter for sure!

* * *

In the weeks since Alessa had taken up residence at Croft Manor, Lara had not been sitting idly by, waiting to be attacked. Despite the urgency of the situation, everyone knew where they needed to be and with what equipment. A scant three minutes after Bryce's warning, he and Winston were blockaded in the wine cellar with guns and portable communications equipment. On the ground floor, Lara and Kurtis glared at each other, fixing earpieces and mics into position. 

"You need to get Alessa upstairs, off the front line," Lara argued, checking the ammunition clip of her Glock for the third time. "I can't help her get her powers under control like you can. It has to be you."

"I'm not leaving you to fight him alone again," Kurtis shot back. "You _know_ what he's capable of!"

Alessa stared from one to the other, eyes wide. "Ummm… If you both need to fight him, I'll try not to get in the way–" she started.

"It's a nice thought," Lara replied tersely, her eyes not leaving Kurtis. "But there's no way in hell. I'm the expendable one, remember?"

Kurtis swallowed back his next instinctive words: _Not to me._ The worst thing was, he knew she had a point. Alessa would die unless he completed her training – from her own lack of control or at the hands of the Nephilim. But this would be the fourth, no, _fifth_, time he'd left Lara to fend for herself against Karel. On one of those occasions he had killed her.

He became aware of a sharp ache in his jaw, and realised he was gritting his teeth. For precious seconds he hesitated, reluctant to give in to common sense. Only Bryce's reminder that the enemy were drawing nearer forced him to succumb. "Alright, already," he snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Lara breathed a sigh of relief as he put a hand out to Alessa's shoulder, preparing to move. He fixed her with one last look, then headed for the stairs. Neither of them said a word, but that single connection told them all they needed to know.

Once they had disappeared into a second-floor corridor, Lara turned her attention to the matter at hand. She'd given some thought to the form the attack would take, and had come to the conclusion that Karel wouldn't sneak in through a side entrance. While his lackeys approached the manor from all directions, the Nephilim would stride in through the front door as if he owned the place. "Bryce, how long?" she asked.

His response was tinny in her ear. "'Bout… ten seconds. Three of them through the front."

"Right. Let me know if more come up behind me. Otherwise, keep quiet." Lara disengaged the Glock 17's safety and adopted a classic shooter's stance, counting silently to herself. _Three… two… one…_

The double doors burst inward off their hinges in a blast of putrid green fire. One hit the wall; the other skidded to a stop a few inches away from Lara's feet. Through the smoky remains of the doorway, three silhouettes emerged.

Pausing only long enough to pinpoint her target, Lara shot the left-most figure in the neck, the one on the right in the chest. As they dropped within a second of each other, she focused her attention on the central assailant.

He strode into the light, his true Nephilic features revealed. For the first time since Cappadocia, Lara took in Joachim Karel's deathly pale visage, marked by blue-green, tattoo-like imprints and a visible network of blood vessels just beneath the skin. His fingers shimmered with the jade energy she had grown to loathe. In spite of his demonic appearance, he was dressed in an Italian designer suit: every crease sharp, cufflinks shining, shoes polished to perfection. It was as if he had just stepped out of a court of law. Perhaps he had – all that was missing was the briefcase.

Lara lowered the gun. As safe as it usually made her feel, by this point she was sick of wasting ammunition on an immortal. This was the thing that had killed her – however briefly – and her courage failed her for a second as she remembered the sensation of his foot driving into her cracked ribs, agitating her internal injuries.

She blinked to clear the memory as he began to speak. "Good evening, Ms. Croft. I trust you are well?"

She sighed, exaggerating her exasperation. "Do we really have to go through all this? Can't we just cut to the chase?"

He chuckled. "You haven't changed."

"Neither have you. Or have you?" she taunted as a tiny ripple across the skin of his forehead twitched and rolled as if alive. Kurtis had described this to her, but she hadn't been able to visualise it until now. "Having trouble keeping up appearances?"

Karel's affable expression was gone in an eyeblink, replaced by the menacing aura she had learned to dread. "A temporary setback. It'll pass – when I get what I came for."

"Why don't you tell me all about it?" Lara asked conversationally. She knew that any attempt she made at subtly fishing for information would be intercepted. She hoped a more direct approach would surprise him into revealing something.

It worked. Karel's features shifted back to amusement. "That's what I like about you, Lara. Straight to the point."

Lara waited, trying to appear bored. In reality, her mind was sifting frantically through all possible plans of action, searching for one to fit the situation. It was all very well to theorise, but in truth she had no idea how she was going to get him off her property without Alessa or the Iris.

Karel began to speak again, but his voice emerged distorted. Appearing irritated, he clenched his fists at his sides as his skin flickered again. Impulsively, Lara raised her weapon and fired a shot into his chest, hoping he would lose the inner battle he seemed to be fighting.

It worked. Karel reeled back from the shot, and his body began to shift. By the time he straightened up again, an altogether different man stood before her. His long, golden hair shimmered in the light, falling between copper-latticed wings. "Lara, hello."

It was too much. For a second she just stared at him, unable to process who stood there. Then she shook her head, smiling. "It's good to see you again, André."

The so-called light-Nephilim nodded to her, shifting his weight nervously. It seemed strange to Lara to see the mannerisms of her friend's nondescript, everyday form mirrored in his true, angelic self, but she realised it would only waste time to draw his attention to it. "Can you tell me what's going on?" she asked instead.

"Do you have the Iris?" he asked, his eyes desperate. "A scaled-down replica of the three layers of the Earth, in constant movement. It's about this big…" He trailed off as Lara withdrew the object from her backpack and held it up. "Ah, good. Under _no circumstances_ let Karel have it."

"Why does he want it?" Lara dropped it back into her backpack, out of sight. "And Alessa?"

André staggered, fighting to stay with her. "The core of the Earth is… iron. Base metal."

The phrasing seemed strange. Lara frowned, wondering where she'd heard it before. Her mind made the connection just as André opened his mouth to continue, and she cut him off. "The practice of turning base metals into gold… Alchemy!"

"Exactly," André wheezed. "But gold is of no use to Karel. Not ordinary gold, at any rate. Has a reference to a Golden Lion cropped up in your studies?"

Immediately, she recalled the scribblings in Werner's field notebook. "'Through the Golden Lion, the Nephilim will enslave the sons of man and inherit the Earth.' My god…" Although she knew time was short, and her life would be in great peril once Karel re-established himself, she couldn't help but be excited. Mysteries like this were her lifeblood: how could she ever have forgotten that?

"I don't have much time," André gasped. "Alessa… Lux Veritatis powers are more concentrated until control of them is achieved. Kurtis' blood isn't strong enough to release the Golden Lion. Alessa's is."

Lara nodded. "Okay. Is there any way to get Karel out of you?"

His eyes, filled with sadness, flicked up to hers. "I am him. He is me… and legion others. Kill this body… I will be free to finally die." Before Lara could ask any more, he fell to his knees, and Lara took a step back as change wracked his body once again. For a second, Lara swore she saw the face of the Sleeper, or something very like it, snarling up at her before Karel resurfaced.

"Insolent subordinate," he muttured, climbing to his feet and brushing dust from his trousers.

"I'd never have pegged you for multiple personality disorder," Lara deadpanned, all her senses back on high alert.

Karel opened his mouth to utter a sarcastic retort, but the sound of running footsteps from above stopped him. "I don't have time to idle my time away in useless conversation, Lara. The girl is upstairs, then?"

Lara's blood ran cold. Although Karel had in the past revealed his personal grudge against her, letting himself be sidetracked from his goals in order to attempt to kill her, this time he would allow himself no such luxury. With his control over his own body in a state of flux, he would move fast to achieve his goals. He would leave his men to seek out the Iris, and go after Alessa himself – and without the Periapt Shards or Black Angel at her disposal, Lara didn't have a hope in hell of stopping him.

"Bryce, warn Kurtis," she snapped into her earpiece, and opened fire on Karel without waiting for a response.

As before, the action was futile. Karel ignored the bullets as if they were raindrops, striding up the main staircase without a backward glance. She cursed and took off after him, not sure what she was doing. Before she had taken two steps, Bryce yelled with alarm. "Lara! Eight! All around!"

"_Shit._" As quickly as she could, she slid a new clip into her pistol… and froze as eight men, all dressed in camouflage gear and carrying Heckler and Koch MP5s, surrounded her.

* * *

Alessa followed Kurtis up the stairs and into the corridor, glancing nervously behind her. She could tell her guardians were a lot more worried than they seemed, and in her opinion, anything that made Lara and Kurtis anxious had to be pretty scary. _Hope I don't mess things up…_

"C'mon," Kurtis said, leading the way into Lara's bedroom. "We'll stay here for a while." He seemed pissed off. Alessa supposed he really didn't want babysitting duty, and felt a flush of shame at her dependence on him.

Kurtis glanced over at the glass doors separating the bedroom from the balcony. Though he knew he should be keeping Alessa out of the line of fire, he had a hunch that if any of Karel's men were going to enter through the second floor, here would be the place.

"Kurtis." Bryce's voice transmitted to him loud and clear. "Three under Lara's balcony. I think they're going to climb up." Just as he finished speaking, the scrape of metal on stone signified the arrival of three grappling hooks, searching for purchase on the railing.

"I see them." Kurtis took a step forward before remembering Alessa. "Stay down," he told her, in a tone that would brook no argument. She hesitated, then nodded, dropping to the floor.

The first guy climbed into view, more intent on getting to solid ground than scanning for danger. Kurtis' eyes widened as he registered their heavy artillery. His Boran X was good, and more precise than the sub-machine guns, but with what they were carrying, even a novice could hit an intended target.

Without waiting for the enemy to notice him, he opened fire, dropping the first before venturing outside. One of the men had retreated to the ground in search of another route, but the third… As he registered movement below, he jumped back just in time to avoid a burst of fire that would have caught him in the head otherwise. The soldier was hanging just below the balcony, gun at the ready.

Trying not to think about his near-miss, Kurtis sent his Chirugai down in a controlled arc, searching for his assailant's throat. A choked gurgle rewarded him, and when the weapon snapped back into his hand, it dripped with gore.

"Nicely done. Four more coming up the back stairs," Bryce warned.

"Alessa," Kurtis called, stepping over the body of the man who'd managed to get onto the balcony as he re-entered the bedroom.

There was no reply, and Kurtis' blood turned to ice. _She was here a moment ago… how could anyone have…?_ Images of Nabila Khayam, the murdered Lux Veritatis child he'd failed to save, rushed into his brain. If he had failed Alessa the same way…

A muffled sob reached his ears, and suddenly Kurtis could move again. He dropped to his knees and looked under the bed, where Alessa was curled into a tiny ball, white-faced, her eyes screwed up tightly.

Relieved and angry at the same time, he took her arm and dragged her out from under the bed. "Come on, we've gotta go!"

The child staggered to her feet, her eyes glued to the man Kurtis had killed. She knew she had to move, but there was so much blood… _Just like Papa._ _Dead,_ _just like him…_

The vase on the coffee table began to shudder, and then to shake violently. Kurtis fought back his exasperation – once, he'd done the same thing. "Bryce, where are they?" he snapped.

"Other side of the house yet, mate. You've got a few minutes."

_Thank god for small mercies_, Kurtis thought wryly. "Alessa," he said aloud, blocking her line of sight to the dead man. "Listen to me. You're losing it again. You've gotta get a grip – remember how?"

She looked up at him through her tears and nodded. While he reminded her to take deep breaths, she pushed her awareness to the back-left corner of her mind, where there was no power. The shaking slowed to a rattle, and then the vase stilled altogether.

"Okay. Try and keep it together. If I didn't kill them, they'd kill me, and kidnap you – remember that." She was still terrified, but some of the colour had returned to her cheeks. Breathing a sigh of relief, Kurtis asked, "Bryce?"

"They're just outside the music room," he supplied, seeming on edge. Kurtis didn't even want to know what was happening with Lara. If he let himself think about it, he'd end up like Alessa.

"Thanks." He glanced down at the girl. "Stay behind me. Ready?" At her nod, they left the bedroom and made for the music room as stealthily as they could. When Kurtis heard footsteps, he pushed Alessa into an open doorway and ducked inside himself.

The confrontation didn't last long. Just over a minute later, the fourth soldier slumped to the ground, decapitated by the Chirugai. "Are they dead?" Alessa whispered.

About to nod, Kurtis froze in momentary incomprehension as Bryce yelled, "Kurtis, Karel's coming up the front stairs _right now!_"

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit…_ "The Iris?" he asked, grabbing Alessa's wrist and pulling her out of the room and in the opposite direction. The other, unspoken question hovered in the air: '_Lara?'_

"She's still got it," Bryce answered, but his answer was suspiciously short. Trying to focus on the matter at hand, he dragged Alessa onward, searching for a suitable hiding place. "Try the–"

Static deafened Kurtis, and he tore out his earpiece, not bothering to censor his language. Bryce was otherwise engaged, and Karel could be anywhere. The situation was _not_ good.

Alessa stumbled and almost fell, gasping for breath. She didn't think she could keep up with Kurtis for much longer. Her legs burned, and her lungs couldn't get enough oxygen. She fought light-headedness and gritted her teeth, determined to keep going.

They rounded another corner… and _he_ stood there. The one who had killed Mama and Papa. Alessa had never known terror so complete. Her legs gave out from under her, and through the ringing in her ears she heard a shrill noise, repeated over and over. It wasn't until her throat began to sting that she realised she was listening to her own screams.

"Little one," Karel hissed, taking a step forward. His sinister smile was all for her.

Kurtis pushed his Chirugai forward, using his own body to shield Alessa. The weapon cut a deep gash in Karel's throat, but only a trickle of blood emerged. Powerless, the last fully-trained Lux Veritatis warrior emptied an entire clip of ammunition into the Nephilim's forehead, to no avail. Splinters of bone fell to the expensive carpet, but were replaced by new tissue almost instantly.

Desperate, Kurtis shoved Karel back with the strongest telekinetic blow he could muster. The effort brought a fierce ache to his temples, and a trickle of blood ran from one nostril as the pressure in his skull released itself. Dizzy, he blinked stinging sweat from his eyes and searched for Karel, who was steadying himself against the wall. Although he knew he didn't have enough power to attack a second time, he felt a rush of satisfaction all the same.

Karel gave an animal snarl, all his practised patience and courtesy used up. This was taking far longer than it should, and his control over his body was slipping with every second. Losing his temper, he rushed at Kurtis, slamming him headfirst into the wall with superhuman strength. Dazed, the mortal warrior slumped to the floor.

* * *

Dimly, through the spots that clouded her vision, Alessa saw Kurtis hit the ground, blood seeping from his nose. _Dead, he's dead, and Lara must be dead too, and now Karel's going to take me away and probably kill me… no, no, _NO! 

Sick with rage and grief, she pulled herself upright, facing off against the creature that had slain everyone she held dear. Her limbs were tingling, and she could no longer feel her fingers or toes, but she was past caring. "You murdering bastard!" she screamed. "Come and get me, then!"

To her shock, Karel's eyes widened, and he stepped back one uncertain pace. At the same time, she realised the air around her was… glowing. A circular, elaborately-drawn pattern of silver light hung in midair, and she was in the centre, screaming defiance, because he was taking her new home away from her, just when she thought she could start to be happy again…

She wanted to make him hurt like she was hurting. She grabbed her power, all of it that she could find, and _shoved_, as hard as she could.

Shocked, she watched the tall figure in the perfectly-pressed suit fly backwards down the corridor and explode through the window at the end. "Did I do that?" she whispered.

* * *

On the ground floor, Lara ground her teeth in utter frustration, her hands balled into fists, as one of her eight attackers confiscated her weapons – with none of the finesse Kurtis had exhibited in the same area. Rough hands snatched her backpack from her, and she could only watch with helpless rage as the thug withdrew the Iris, sneering triumphantly. 

Six guns still pointed at her. One man held the artefact, and the eighth drove a fist into her gut so hard it was an effort not to be physically sick. Gasping with pain, Lara hunched protectively over her aching midsection. Apparently Karel's men thought they could have some fun with her whilst their boss finished off upstairs.

The brittle sound of glass breaking startled her out of her pain, and everyone in the main hall stared out of the gaping doorway at the figure that landed with a jarring thud some ten feet from the manor.

Lara's first thought was that it was Kurtis, and a flash of dread numbed the pain in her stomach. A split-second later, her brain identified the fallen man as Karel. She and the men around her stared in disbelief as the Nephilim rose and stared up at the broken window, shock and fear clear on his face.

It was all Lara needed to see. Whilst his followers were still processing the fact that their master was losing the battle, she wrenched the Iris back and dove for her weapon, killing or knocking unconscious five of the enemy before they had time to react.

The remaining mercenaries bolted toward Karel. One fell en route, shot in the back, but the others took cover behind the immortal, who limped forward a step, raising a fist in Lara's direction. "Our business is not finished," he informed her icily.

"What a shame," she deadpanned back, scooping one of the machine guns up off the floor and firing a short burst at him. The bullets did no damage, but she hadn't expected them to. At this moment in time, she just wanted him the hell off her property.

Bryce and Winston rushed up behind her, and they watched, stunned to be alive, as Karel retreated.

* * *

**Yeah, I know the Golden Lion is supposed to be the Cabal, but I have a plan for that. Anyway. Review and I'll love you!**


	11. Regaining Equilibrium

**Author's Note**: Hi, all… here's the next one! Thanks for your patience and support with this. This chapter dedicated to **akkon**, who's been ordering me to write the last 1500 words of it since chapter two! XD And to the **UK-KTEB-2006**ers, whose awesome creativity rubbed off on me…

---xxx---

His head pounding as if he had the worst hangover ever, Kurtis pulled himself into a sitting position. For a second he had no idea where he was, but then it all came rushing back, and he scanned the hallway for Karel and Alessa, trying to quell his rising fear.

To his relief, she was lying a few feet away, unconscious. Kurtis checked her pulse, which was strong and steady. That done, he let himself wonder what the hell had happened. Where was Karel? Why had he left without Alessa? Did he have the Iris?

_Lara._ Even as he thought her name, he heard running footsteps drawing nearer. The lady of the house, looking dishevelled and a little winded, rounded the corner at a near-sprint, with Bryce in tow. Catching sight of him, she slowed to a walk, her relief evident. "Are you alright? Is _she _alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He attempted to stand, and the corridor spun. He reached out for the wall for support. "Or maybe not so good. Damn..." He waited until the world stopped whirling before continuing, conscious of Lara's concerned hand on his shoulder. "Alessa's fine too. She's out cold, is all."

Bryce was peering out of the broken window, chuckling to himself. "He fell a _long_ way. Wish I'd seen him land!"

"What happened?" Kurtis asked, just as Lara began to ask him the same thing. He shrugged. "I dunno. He knocked me out. Alessa must have…"

They all stared at the unconscious girl. She was unmarked, and if not for the strange angle she lay at, she appeared to have simply fallen asleep. All the answers lay with Alessa.

Trying not to wince in pain, Lara gathered the child in her arms and carried her down the hall, into the room she'd claimed as her own. This was not lost on Kurtis. From the way she'd been standing, he guessed Karel had slugged her in the stomach, and though sympathetic to the injury he thanked god that was all he'd done.

Once Alessa was settled, Winston made an appearance, carrying a tray of hot tea and a first-aid kit. His hands shook as he set down the tray, something Lara noticed immediately. "Winston, first thing tomorrow I want you to take a trip to Ireland, visit your family. And say hello to Father Dunstan for me." The old man opened his mouth to protest, but she fixed him with a pointed stare. "Don't argue with me. It's dangerous here, and you know you're not as mobile as you used to be."

Anyone else would have taken offence. Winston merely nodded, appearing torn between gratitude and guilt. "But won't you need help with the little one…?"

She snorted. "From what I've just seen, I think she can take good enough care of herself. No buts."

As Winston excused himself and shuffled from the room, Bryce took his tea from the tray and stood up. "My comm devices went offline at the end… I want to see what those buggers did to my equipment."

"If you need anything replacing, take it out of my expenses account. I need everything back in working order as soon as you can." Bryce left, and Lara opened the medical kit and extracted a package of painkillers, swallowing two before handing the rest to Kurtis.

"What happened downstairs?" he asked, ignoring Bryce's anguished cry from below and chasing paracetamol with tea. It wasn't something he'd normally choose to drink, but tea seemed to be the English solution to everything, and the earthy taste was beginning to grow on him.

Lara pulled her chair closer to his, unwrapping an antiseptic wipe to clean the blood from his head wound. "André managed to fill in a few blanks."

Kurtis wasn't sure if he'd expected André to appear or not, but he didn't have the energy to be surprised. "So, what's going on?"

She filled him in. As she finished, Alessa began to stir. "Papa, I don't _want_ to go to school," she murmured, before opening her eyes. She gasped, bolting upright as she remembered what had happened before she blacked out. "Where…?"

"He's gone," Kurtis reassured her. "Do you remember what happened?"

Alessa rubbed her forehead, thinking. Lara handed her yet more painkillers and tea, which she eyed dubiously before gulping down. "I was glowing," she said, glancing at the space that surrounded her to ensure she wasn't now. "Patterns, like on Papa's ring… in the air. I don't know how. And then it was like I pushed him really hard, through the window. Then I fell over." She blinked, registering fully who she was talking to for the first time. "I thought you were dead!"

Before he knew what was happening, Kurtis had an armful of teenage girl as Alessa flung her arms around his neck, weeping relieved tears. Trapped and at a loss for what to do, Kurtis sent a pleading look at Lara, who was swallowing back laughter. This didn't last long, however – as soon as she released Kurtis, Alessa gave Lara the same treatment.

"Is Bryce alright? And Winston?"

"Both fine," Lara confirmed. Alessa wiped away tears, smiling weakly. "What did your father's ring look like?"

Kurtis could answer that one. He slid his ring off his right hand, and held it out. "Like that."

Both Lara and Alessa sat forward to study it. It was heavy, and the square stone was etched with concentric circles linked in intricate patterns. Alessa was the first to comment. "Cool. That's only a little bit of it, though. Maybe they couldn't get the whole thing on the ring."

Kurtis handed the ring to Lara, a tiny part of him communicating irrational awkwardness. Along with the Chirugai, it was his most precious possession. There was also the fact that when a guy gave a woman his ring, it signified serious commitment of some kind. He shook the feeling off. _This is business, right?_

Lara turned the ring back and forth in the light, her face lit up with curiosity. Kurtis sensed a change in her – during their Turkish escapades she had seemed to be going through the motions, just doing what was necessary. Now, though, she seemed almost excited.

She glanced up, caught him staring. Her mouth turning up in the barest of smiles, she asked, "So everyone in the Order had one of these? What does the pattern mean?"

Kurtis nodded to the first question. "Yeah, once you passed the Trials and became a full initiate, they gave you a ring. At one time, it was a huge sect. The rings were handed down through families, so that members could recognise one another." He felt a twinge of bitterness as he used the past tense, knowing that the remnants of the Lux Veritatis would never need to rely on this method again.

Alessa lay back against her pillows, seeming tired but interested. "If it was me, I'd have just put the arrow symbol on it. At least you could make it all fit."

Kurtis had often thought the same thing. The Lux Veritatis insignia of a downward-pointing arrow was much more widely used. He had only seen this symbol in its entirety once, in a history lesson his father had attempted to give him. Kurtis, aged thirteen, had only given it a cursory glance, and didn't remember anything besides what it looked like. Now he wished he'd paid more attention.

"I don't know what it represents," he admitted, feeling a touch of shame as he imagined his dead brethren squirming in their graves. But I think I know where to look. Tomorrow," he added, when Lara looked as if she would leap onto the lead.

Alessa seemed to be almost asleep. Kurtis suspected once her exhaustion had passed, she would be much more concerned about what she had done, and he would have to figure out how. For now, though, they had more practical tasks at hand: the matter of several dead bodies strewn throughout the manor, for instance.

---xxx---

Lara stepped out of the shower and towelled herself dry, favouring the blossoming bruise across her abdomen. As she and Kurtis had located the dead and dug shallow graves for them on the far reaches of the property, her mind had been buzzing with a thousand theories, none of which had any grounding in actual fact. She intended to remedy that as soon as she was dressed. At the rate her brain was working, she wouldn't sleep tonight without some answers.

Ten minutes later, she trailed her fingers over the spines of the books in her study, thinking to start with the field journal Werner had insisted she keep on their expedition to Cambodia. If there was anything strange she had noticed about the Iris' tomb, she would have written it there.

Her search proved futile; belatedly, she realised she had packed up the notebook with her reference books on Egypt when she'd returned from North Africa. Her bitterness towards Werner had been so great that she'd needed to get any reminder of him as far from her as possible. The boxes of books were in the attic, somewhere – she'd have to locate them in the morning.

With that possibility exhausted, she turned to the volumes on alchemy: a grand total of thirteen, and four of those purchased on her return from Prague. Before she'd had time to read them in earnest, Kurtis had shown up on her doorstep, supplying her with the information she needed. She extracted one from the shelves now, wondering whether any lions formed part of alchemic lore, golden or otherwise.

A couple of minutes into her reading, the words began to blur. As eager as she was to start gathering information, her brain just wouldn't let her process what was written: she was too tired.

"Bugger," she muttered, shifting the book and accidentally knocking it into her injured stomach, which flared with pain. Cursing some more, she rubbed her eyes and sighed.

A light tap on the door startled her; she took a moment to gather her composure before calling, "Come in!"

Kurtis hesitated in the doorway, taking in the books strewn around her and her frustrated expression. He smiled. "Thought so. When will you learn to take a break?"

In spite of herself, Lara found herself smiling back. She snapped the book shut and gestured for him to come in. "I know. I just want to stay a step ahead." As he took a seat on the edge of the nearby armchair, she asked, "What's up?"

"Nah, it's nothing." Lara waited, knowing something was on his mind. He picked up one of her old field journals, leafing through it, before speaking again. "The Golden Lion. The Cabal used a lion's head as their crest – we all assumed that was what the prophecy referred to. Through the Cabal, the Nephilim would be reborn. That was why we spent so much time and effort on suppressing Eckhardt in the thirteen and fourteen hundreds, so it wouldn't come to pass. But if we were wrong… what's the Golden Lion?"

Lara leaned forward, catching his eye. "The Lux Veritatis weren't wasting their time. If not for them, Eckhardt would have revived the Sleeper long ago, before we were around to stop him." He nodded, but she could tell her words had little effect. She decided to redirect his focus. "The Golden Lion could be an artefact. Literally, a statue of a lion made of gold. Though what purpose Karel could use it for, I have no idea."

"Or it could be a phantom, like the Black Angel," Kurtis added, his brow furrowed in thought. "Or something totally different."

"I wish I'd had time to ask André." Lara set her book down, racking her brain for information. "What do you know about alchemy?"

Kurtis shrugged. "According to legend, alchemists were trying to turn stuff to gold. The Cabal practised it. The Sanglyph was gold, so I guess they must have done something right."

Lara filed away that piece of information. _Perhaps, if we went back to the Strahov… but no._ _The Czech police were all over it. There'd be nothing left._ She dredged up all she knew about alchemy – which she had to admit wasn't much. "Apart from gold, alchemists were questing for two other things. The panacea, a so-called elixir of life to cure all illnesses and make them immortal. Karel wouldn't need that. And the philosopher's stone. That was supposed to help them with successful transmutations."

As one, they turned to stare at the Iris, now sitting in its podium on the mantlepiece. "You think…?" Kurtis started.

She shook her head. "I found the real philosopher's stone a while back," she said. "In Rome. All the texts seemed to signify it was the real thing… but if it is, wouldn't it make more sense for Karel to be after that?"

"So we stick to what we know – the Iris is the base metal." He stilled as an idea came to him. "What colour was the stone?"

"Red," Lara replied slowly, trying to figure out where he was going with this.

"Red, as in blood? Lux Veritatis blood?"

A mixture of nausea and elation filled her. She was disgusted at the thought that the stone she had purposely sought out was formed of the blood of their dead allies, but it was a relief to have a theory at last. "Maybe we're onto something. I wonder if the books agree on how to make the stone." She got to her feet and made for her alchemy section again, standing on tiptoes to reach the shelf and half-turning to address Kurtis at the same time.

His eyes widened as he drew in a surprised breath, and she realised that her shirt had ridden up, exposing the emerging bruise on her stomach. "Oh, this? It's nothing." She turned back to the shelf, out of his line of sight, and began to ease the book from its tightly-wedged position between two others.

---xxx---

**Author's Note 2**: The rest of this chapter has absolutely no plot and practically no dialogue. It's one hundred per cent shaggage, also known as graphic smut. Those not wishing to read it don't have to – I can sum it up by saying "and then they had lots of sex and didn't get any more research done that night. End of chapter." (Oh, and no, I'm not putting the rating up, since I don't think it's fair that M-rated stories get hidden behind filters that half the people on this site don't even know exist.) YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

---xxx---

The next thing she knew, Kurtis' hands were slipping over her hips, pulling her back against him without aggravating her injury. All thoughts of books and alchemy were forgotten as his lips grazed the top of her head. "Let me see."

Before she could even comprehend what he meant, one of his hands moved from her waist across her stomach, in a gesture that felt oddly familiar. His touch was light, skimming over her flesh, checking for swelling. It didn't hurt as much as she had expected, but Lara caught her breath as her skin tingled under his fingers. Taking the suppressed gasp for an expression of pain, he returned his hand to its original position. "Sorry."

"It's fine," she murmured, relishing his warmth against her back. Her mind flashed back to one humid night, six weeks ago. Kurtis had held her this way then, as he told her he was leaving the next day. She knew that some time in the near future, after this was all over, he would do the same thing. Until that time came, she wanted to make the most of it. She had wound herself into such a state of confusion over what she wanted that she had lost sight of the simple truth: she loved him.

Kurtis resumed kissing the top of her head, raising goosebumps over her flesh. Instinctively she turned in his arms, sliding a hand to the nape of his neck and pulling him into a slow, searching kiss.

When she drew away, her entire body protesting at the thought of being apart from his, he pulled her forward again, kissing her almost violently. Caught off guard by his aggression, Lara stepped back, searching for an explanation in his face. Startled, she realised she had seen his expression in the mirror a thousand times before: that of someone who has resigned themselves to death and is shocked to still be breathing.

His face was calm, but there was a desperate question in his eyes. A million conflicting thoughts seemed to be teeming through his brain, and he was silently begging her for a way to silence them; something to concentrate on, something to feel in control of. Taken aback – this was a side of Kurtis she had never seen before – she nodded, agreeing to the terms he had set her without speaking a word.

Kurtis kissed her again, with less force than she was expecting. Relaxing into it, she let him push her back against the wall beside the bookcase, her arms by her sides, palms flat against the varnished wood panelling.

He trailed his lips lower, down her throat, across her collarbones. His fingers lifted the hem of her shirt, and she felt a jolt of frustrated yearning. Normally, she would have pulled off _his_ shirt by now. In her mind, she had downplayed Kurtis' abilities, muting the memories to make it easier to pretend she didn't miss him. Now, at the mercy of his exploring fingertips, everything came flooding back. She longed to feel the muscular contours of his chest under her fingers, to trace them with her lips, but instead she could do nothing but wait for his next move.

Just as she thought she could no longer stand it, Kurtis pulled her shirt up and over her head, and she acquiesced gladly. Their eyes locked once more, and he shot her the rakish half-smile that she could never resist. He seemed to have regained his equilibrium now, more the Kurtis she had spent weeks bantering with, and nights sleeping beside.

Relieved, she tilted forward into his next embrace, only the tips of her fingers brushing the wall. Kurtis deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing hers as his hands sought her breasts. As she leaned into his touch, Lara's self-control snapped. She broke away just long enough to strip off his shirt, then entwined the fingers of one hand in his hair, pulling him back into her arms. For a few moments, she thought she'd gotten away with it, as Kurtis didn't draw away from her kisses. When they surfaced for air, however, he took hold of her wrists, pinning them to the wall above her head.

"That was strike one," he breathed in her ear. "Two more, and I walk away."

Lara's eyes snapped open in disbelief. "You wouldn't."

His grin was wicked, sending shivers of need down her spine. "Do you really want to take that chance?"

Biting back a few choice curses, Lara dropped her arms to her sides once more, glaring at Kurtis. He chuckled softly, obviously enjoying the view. She had to admit, he didn't look too bad either. The light from the coal fire burning across the room flickered across his features, highlighting the teasing sensuality in his expression, and the familiar, scarred expanse of hard muscle that she knew would ripple under her fingertips if she touched it.

Feeling another violent jolt of desire, she closed her eyes to shut out the image that had provoked it. Immediately, she sensed movement, followed by the warm, insistent sensation of Kurtis' lips trailing over her, from her forehead to her cheeks, from her lips to her throat, from her shoulders to her breasts. The fingers of one hand delved below the waistband of her jeans – not a serious attempt to get anywhere, but a tantalising reminder of what he could do if he chose to.

Her hands bunching into fists, knuckles still stubbornly against the wall, Lara bit her lip to keep from voicing her frustration as he toyed with her. As he dropped to his knees, raining light kisses over the tender flesh of her abused abdomen, a whole new onslaught of possibilities hit her. She shoved them to the back of her mind, knowing that if she let her imagination take hold, she would lose control again.

Without any kind of warning, Kurtis moved on, his attention abruptly shifting from her stomach, down lower. As Lara swallowed a cry of pleasure, her eyes narrowed to determined, lust-fogged slits, he pressed his mouth to the rough denim that separated him from his goal. When one hand took over, grinding into her as his other hand snapped the button at her waist undone, her right arm twitched as she resisted the impulse to reach for him.

With agonising slowness, Kurtis unzipped her fly, then pushed her jeans and underwear down over her hips. Lara closed her eyes as he stripped them away, blocking out the sight of his eyes moving appreciatively over her. _God, I can't stand this…_

Long moments passed as she waited for him to make a move, but the contact she expected didn't come. Impatient, she opened her eyes again, to find him grinning up at her. Despite all her efforts to suppress it, her own lips tugged up into an answering smile. "Oh, you b–"

The rest of her words fled her brain in an instant, as his mouth finally pushed between her legs. His tongue went straight for the pulsing need at her clit, stimulating it ten times over until all her awareness was concentrated on that one spot. When he moved his fingers into play, the pleasure intensified so much that her legs threatened to collapse from under her, and she felt the orgasm gradually building to excruciating proportions. _If it doesn't come soon, I'm going to fall…_ She reached a hand out to the top of Kurtis' head, murmuring wordless encouragement.

Just as she was about to succumb, Kurtis pulled away, getting to his feet. Groaning her disappointment, Lara opened her eyes as the feeling lessened. "You fucking tease," she whispered, scowling, not sure whether to be amused or furious.

In response, Kurtis pushed her wrist back against the wall. "Strike two," he whispered against her lips, before kissing her once again. Savouring the taste of herself on his lips, she tried to figure out what he meant… and then remembered her involuntary lapse of control. _Damn it._

He leaned into her, pressing her into the wall, and she felt his erection push against her. Keeping her hands flat against the wall, she arched forward, rubbing herself against him and surprising a sharp intake of breath from him. "I'd be careful, if I were you," he told her, running his fingers over her breast. "One more mistake and you're out."

Lara ignored him, grinding her pelvis against his, enjoying the fresh burst of gratification the pressure brought her. She could feel the quickening of Kurtis' heartbeat against her chest, and knew he couldn't hold out much longer. A second later, his resolve snapped, and he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her forcefully as he at last removed his pants. She had feared he would go back to teasing her, compelling her to endure more agonising minutes of torment, but it seemed his endurance had reached its limits.

He drove into her, sheathing himself inside her in one thrust. Knowing his self-control was exhausted, Lara pushed away from the wall, pulling him to the floor with her. As she'd expected, he didn't even hesitate. As she curved her hips upward to meet him, he finally stopped holding back, moving within her again and again until the orgasm he had denied her until now overwhelmed her.

---xxx---

**There! Now, tell me what you think! And yikes, how did this get so long?**


	12. ShadowHistories

**Author's Note:** Hi, everyone! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated – my last year of uni took longer than I thought and then my laptop died, then our internet connection was cut… But yeah, at last I can put this up! It's not one of my best, lots of exposition, but bear with it, the next chapter should be more interesting.

* * *

Kurtis woke alone in Lara's room, his brain protesting the need for more rest. A patch of empty warmth on the mattress told him Lara had only just gotten up, and the faint patter of her en-suite shower clued him in as to her location. Before he could roll over and doze off again, his traitorous brain reminded him of yesterday's showdown with Karel, and he realised with resignation that he couldn't afford the luxury of sleeping in.

Pulling on his pants, he picked up the rest of his discarded clothing and let himself out into the hallway, heading for his room and the shower that awaited him there. Before he had taken two steps, a gasp, followed by a smothered giggle, reached his ears. Glancing further up the corridor, he saw Alessa grinning knowledgeably at him from the doorway of her bedroom. _Shit._

"What?" he asked defensively, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

"Well, it's about time," she teased, seeming delighted to be able to exploit his moment of weakness.

Despite himself, Kurtis was amused. _She has a point._

"Bryce said you'd hold out another two weeks at least," Alessa continued airily, "but I told him no way."

Biting back a sarcastic retort, Kurtis changed the subject. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugged. "My head aches a bit, and I don't think much of my power's come back yet, but I'm okay." Once again, her face broke out into a broad grin. "How are _you_ today?"

Shaking his head good-naturedly, Kurtis crossed to his room and shut the door firmly behind him, muffling her gleeful laughter.

* * *

Standing with her feet slightly apart, Lara reached up over her head, standing on tiptoe and stretching her abdominal muscles. Pain screamed through them, almost bad enough to bring tears to her eyes. Stubbornly, she held the pose for long moments before dropping her arms back to her sides. The agony abated, but she only gave herself a few seconds to recover before she dropped into a sitting position, leaning forward to grab her toes and holding the pose. If possible, the pain was worse, and she grunted with the strain. _You should have rested up last night. What if Karel comes back?_

She heard a footstep behind her, and immediately eased the pressure on her wounded stomach. Forcing herself to relax so that her face bore no trace discomfort, she stood up and turned to watch Kurtis approach. Her lips curved in a faint smile as she brushed hair out of her eyes. "Morning."

"You're damn right, it is," Kurtis replied, sounding as fatigued as he looked. Lara wasn't sure what mental tricks he'd pulled yesterday, but they were definitely catching up with him this morning.

She nodded, letting her façade slip a little. "Tell me about it. Last night was _not_ a good idea."

Kurtis leaned against her climbing frame and stared across the room, his expression unreadable as his voice. "How's your stomach?"

She sat on a nearby vaulting block and shook her head as her abdomen wrenched even at that small movement. "It'll be days before I have my full mobility back. I did it more harm than good last night."

"Yeah, well, if you're going to insist on testing it every morning, you're gonna end up tearing something," Kurtis muttered, his resentment growing.

Lara rolled her eyes. _What's his problem today?_ "Alright. Out with it."

"What?" he snapped back defensively.

"If you have something to say, I'd prefer to hear it now, if you don't mind," she said, with false patience.

For a split second he paused, as if debating with himself whether or not to speak. There was a tiny instant when vulnerability showed on his face, though she had no idea what was passing through his mind. "Forget it," he muttered when the moment passed.

By the time she'd replayed the conversation in her mind and realised what she'd said to piss him off, he was halfway to the door. She followed, reaching out to stop him, knowing she should apologise. Her fingers had barely brushed his arm when she was shoved with enough force to send her stumbling backwards.

It took her a few moments to register that he'd pushed her with his telekinesis. By then, he was gone, leaving her with a rising anger that drowned her contrition.

* * *

"Whoa…" Alessa leaned over Kurtis' shoulder as a webpage blinked up on the screen of Bryce's laptop. "This is a Lux Veritatis site! I didn't know we had one!"

Kurtis stared at the page welcoming him by name to ShadowHistories, the information archive Mathias Vasiley had been compiling up until his death. Surprise that his login had been valid temporarily assuaged his anger with Lara, and he hesitated, unsure where to start looking. "Did your dad ever mention Mathias Vasiley?"

She grinned, relieved that he seemed to be coming out of the bad mood he'd been in for the past hour. "He said he was really boring."

Kurtis fought back a smile of his own. That had always been his impression of the art dealer, too. "He was putting all the information in the books at the headquarters library online. Hopefully this will save us going there to find what we need."

Alessa made a disappointed noise. "I like it there. Bordeaux is pretty."

Kurtis shook his head, his black mood descending once again as he remembered having to dispose of the bodies of the last six Lux Veritatis members to be murdered – his father included. Sensing his discomfort, Alessa changed the subject. "So what are we looking for?"

Kurtis began to follow links at random, searching for helpful information. "I'll know when I see it, I guess."

For the first five minutes, she continued to look over his shoulder, but as time went on she grew bored and wandered off to find Bryce. Kurtis continued his search for anything relating to the Golden Lion – although the chance was slim, since the entire Order had believed it to represent of the Cabal – or the symbolism of his ring.

After a while of fruitless searching, thoughts of Lara began to distract him. Now that he'd begun to cool down a little, he was ashamed of the impulse that had driven him to strike her. He'd barely realised he'd done it, and at the time, he hadn't cared. Now he knew he'd overreacted, but was still too angry to apologise.

He knew they would never have a 'normal' relationship, would never live together, settle down, get married. None of those things had ever been particularly important to him, and falling for Lara hadn't changed his mind. He knew the perfect image of domesticity repelled her, as it did him. But even so, he wanted her to acknowledge that there was something deeper to their relationship than amazing sex.

How had things gotten so out of control?

Sighing, Kurtis shoved the thoughts away, beginning to search the archive again. Something lurked at the back of his mind, something he knew he should remember…

'Documented cases of spontaneous human combustion'. Suddenly it clicked into place, and he clicked the link, waiting impatiently for the page to load. _Helene…_

His mother had tried to keep the details of Helene Occitan's death from him. Even so, fourteen-year-old Kurtis had heard the whispers of how the girl had combusted, burning from the inside out as her powers overwhelmed her. He had dismissed certain details as fallacy – Lyle had been prone to exaggeration, and when he had told Kurtis of the arcane symbols that had surrounded Helene in the minutes leading to her death, he had paid no attention.

Six names blinked up on screen. The first, Raoul Limoux, Kurtis knew to be the son of the first head of the Order, the respected Edouard Limoux. He had met his painful end in the late thirteen hundreds, but Vasiley's research went further through history. It stated that Edouard had been so grief-stricken that when the Lux Veritatis rings were first created, he had ordered the symbols surrounding his dying son to be incorporated into their design, so that no member should forget Raoul, or the mistake he made.

The rest of the cases of spontaneous human combustion followed, sporadically dotted from Raoul Limoux's time up to Helene Occitan in 1986. Following each name was a short account of their death, presumably compiled from eyewitness statements. Linking all six incidents were the symbols that had shone around Alessa, and the fact that each member was dangerously behind on their training.

As Kurtis read, his initial triumph faded to unease. Their only hope to keep Karel at bay was to allow Alessa's control to slip, risking her life. The balance would be delicate, and Kurtis had no idea how best to manage it. Not for the first time since his father and brother had been murdered, he wished the burden did not rest on his shoulders alone.

He continued to search, but his brain did not process anything he read. He was just about to give up when he heard the angry roar of a speeding motorcycle engine draw closer. Lara was back, and clearly still pissed off.

He was going to have to swallow his pride, apologise, and hope that the act provoked a similar response from her. _God-damnit._

Clearing his mind of resentment as best he could, he stepped into the corridor and made his way down to the main hall, arriving just in time to see Lara kick the newly-installed front door shut. As she took a few steps toward the main staircase, Kurtis forced himself to speak. "I'm sorry."

For a split-second, he thought she hadn't heard him, and frustration welled up within at the thought of having to say it again. One step more, however, and she halted, seeming almost startled as she turned toward him.

The silence stretched on for long seconds, the counter-apology he had been hoping for nowhere to be found. Kurtis clenched his fists against the urge to pick up their argument where he had left it. "I shouldn't have knocked you back."

There was a slight softening in the guardedness of her face, and she nodded acknowledgement of the gesture, though surely she had noticed the unwilling way it had been given. "I'm sorry, too," she said simply, her tone civil carrying only a hint of friendliness. For a moment, they stared at one another, each ensuring that the other understood that this was the way it was going to be. The apology had done little to heal the rift between them, but it was a start. Time, not words, would do the rest.

"We have way bigger things to worry about," he told her, dismissing the subject before he lost control of his tongue. "I found out what happened to Alessa."

They headed for the study, where Kurtis filled her in as succinctly as possible, pulling up ShadowHistories when Lara showed an interest. When he finished, she stared at the webpage for a few seconds before looking up, her eyes locking with his. "What do we tell Alessa?"

That was the question he'd been trying to answer in his own mind. "Nothing," he said, hoping he was making the right call. "It would just upset her, and the power gets more difficult to control under strong emotion."

"Nothing," Lara echoed, getting to her feet. "Until she asks why you've stopped training her, why all of a sudden what we thought was so important needs to be aborted."

Kurtis sighed, choosing to ignore her abrasive words. "Then we find something more important to focus on. Where are your books on alchemy?"

Without a glance in his direction, Lara indicated the books heaped on her desk. "Same place they were last night."

As she moved toward the door, he called after her, "And the coffee. Don't forget the coffee…"

"Winston's already left for Ireland. You can make your own bloody coffee," she muttered, looking back. Kurtis caught a glimpse of a suppressed smile as she left the room.

* * *

Alessa gulped down another glass of water, wishing her head would stop aching. Her power reserves were still uncomfortably low, and although she thought she was doing a good job of acting normal in front of the others, she felt all messed up inside.

She knew that since she'd told Kurtis she was going to find Bryce, she should actually do so, but truthfully, she didn't feel like company. The carnage she'd seen the evening before, and the knowledge that she was partly the cause of it, made her sick to her stomach. The discovery that Lara and Kurtis were finally acting like a normal couple had cheered her, but that had lasted for all of an hour. Now Lara was nowhere to be found, and Kurtis seemed as if he wanted to kill someone.

She wished her real parents were here. Everything had made sense back then.

Leaving the bathroom and glancing down the hall at the boarded-up window she had somehow thrown Karel through, Alessa wandered into the music room, her eyes skimming over the spines of the CD cases in Lara's collection. One caught her attention; she remembered that her mother had loved it. Edith Piaf.

Bryce poked his head around the door a few minutes later, drawn by the sounds of soft music. Alessa was sitting on the windowsill, watching Lara pull through the gates of the manor on one of her bikes. She sang along to the French CD, her notes warbling off-key, but her pronunciation perfect.

"I didn't know you could speak French."

Alessa jumped, and smiled sheepishly. "My father was French. We spent all my school holidays there." She looked down at Lara again, as she strode up to the front door. "Do you think they're going to yell at each other again?"

Bryce peered over her shoulder. "You can pretty much count on it. They spend most of their time arguing, some of it saving the world, and the rest of it shagging. Trust me." His bluntness startled a giggle from Alessa, and he winced. "Oops. Probably shouldn't have said that. You alright?"

She grinned. "I've heard worse in my foster homes."

"I meant, with all this weird stuff going on. Do you feel like coming down to help us look for stuff?"

Alessa jumped up as the CD finished. "Yep." Strangely enough, she did feel better. Whether it was Bryce's influence or the memory of her mother, she was going to stay strong, and do whatever it took.

* * *

Lara turned another page in her Cambodian field notebook, memories reawakening with every word she read.

"The pictograms were easy to understand. They were a warning about vengeance on whoever took the artefact, in the form of poisoned darts and 'triggered entombment'. But there was writing scratched underneath. I couldn't read it, and Werner didn't even seem to want to look at it. I suppose he saw the artefact, and wanted it. I thought he was being rash, but I didn't expect the whole place to start coming apart." Lara set the journal down, knowing the next paragraph detailed Werner's condition in hospital, and the one after contained her feelings of guilt at not being able to do more to help him.

Since that time, Lara had learned to place blame where it belonged. She knew now that Werner had brought his accident upon himself, as the more experienced of the two of them. He had acted irresponsibly. Just as she had when she'd pulled the Ankh of Semerkhet from Set's tomb… but that was another story.

Her eyes skimmed the slanted italic of her handwriting once again, hoping the words would help to pull the memory of the Iris' location to the forefront of her brain. Something about the expedition was not sitting right with her; a tiny misgiving niggled at the edge of her consciousness. She closed her eyes, ignoring the headache that was starting to build, and tried to remember if Werner had ever referred to the Iris by name…

Kurtis glanced up, startled, as Lara shoved back her chair and made a beeline for the door. "What…?" Beside him, Alessa blinked her confusion.

Without acknowledging that she'd even heard him, she strode out into the hallway, heading for the stairs. "Bryce? Where are you? _Bryce!_"

A few seconds later she reappeared, a bemused Bryce in tow. "How did we discover this thing was called the Iris?" she demanded. When he only blinked in the direction of the artefact, she answered her own question. "Werner's security files, at Von Croy Industries. I found him, you hacked in…"

"Yeah… I remember. You were only looking for him, and when you saw a picture of it, you went nuts!" Bryce flopped down in an armchair, grinning at the memory.

Lara folded her arms across her chest. "That artefact was rightfully mine. I beat Werner to it, fair and square, and he told me in the hospital that it had been lost in the wreckage. I can't stand it when people take my property." She felt Kurtis' eyes on her as her mind skipped back to the Obscura painting she had claimed from the Tomb of Ancients, but refused to return his stare.

"Yeah," Bryce continued, oblivious, "then you went in and nicked it from under their noses, and I was in a van down on the street, guiding you through…" He stopped and frowned. "So where were you going with this?"

"Werner didn't know what would be in the tomb we searched… as far as I could tell, no one did. The records indicated that there _was_ a tomb, but not whose, or what treasures were buried there. When the temple collapsed, Werner took the Iris… but he didn't know what it was. When we found his security files, it had been named. According to the notes, he'd made a worldwide appeal for aid, and some kind of expert had responded. He hadn't volunteered much information, and Werner wasn't sure whether he knew more than he was saying." Lara hesitated, then turned to Bryce. "Do you remember his name? Was his picture in the staff records?"

"Do you have a theory for me to work from?" Bryce asked, exasperated. "Maybe if you tell me who you think he is, I might be able to help."

Lara glanced at Kurtis, keeping her conflicted feelings towards him buried under the idea that was gathering momentum at the forefront of her mind. "I think it was Mathias Vasiley."

Bryce got up. "I'll see if I can find the Iris notes and personnel files I pulled on VCI."

Kurtis slid the laptop over to him. "If his name doesn't come up, see if you can find a guy who looks like this. He might have used an alias." Vasiley's picture, pulled up from ShadowHistories, lit up the screen: a bespectacled man in his late forties, smiling nervously for the camera.

As Bryce left the room, Kurtis said, "What makes you think the Iris is a Lux Veritatis artefact?"

She shrugged. "Nothing based in fact… yet. Call it an archaeologist's hunch." Knowing her reply wasn't going to satisfy him, she began to tick off points on her fingers. "One: no one knows a thing about it, yet Werner has a name and some information. Two: there was writing I didn't recognise, beneath much older pictograms, in the tomb where we found the Iris. To me, that indicates someone hid the Iris in a place built for something else, something older that might have been grave-robbed by the time of the Lux Veritatis. Three: I found some correspondence between Werner and Vasiley. They were communicating through Margot Carvier, but in one fax Vasiley referred to Werner as 'old friend'."

Kurtis sucked in a breath, then let it out again. "I want to see the tomb you found the Iris in."

"I'll book the flight."


End file.
